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Book V3lt>6 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr 



For the Honor of the King 



The life history of Louis, 
son of Simon and Marie 
Vally of Lavaudieu, in the 
Province ^ofArdeche, France 



By 

IRWIN HUNTINGTON-BURTON 

Author of " The Wife of the Son" « The New Psyche" 
"A Prince of the Wilderness" " The Sacred Fire" etc. 



" Let thy spirit burn with a steady light. Thou canst not know 
when another shall catch the sacred fire from thee." 




PHILADELPHIA 

H. L. KiLNER & Co 

PUBLISHERS 





LIBRARY of CONGRESS 






Two Copies Received 






DEC 6 iy04 






CopyrisHi entry 




Copyright, 1904 
By Sisters of Mercy of Vicksburg, Miss. 









R> 






7o 

The Pioneer Priests of the South 

Strong Men of God 

and 

Heroes of the ''Forest Primeval" 

this work is respectfully dedicated 

by 

The Author 



Author's Preface 

One of the most potent factors in the progress 
of the human race, has been the tradition, and, 
later on, the history of nations and of individ- 
uals ; the virile influence of the lives and deeds 
of men being the Promethean fire in which 
Heroism is engendered, and the wings of Aspira- 
tion forged. 

Since Egypt was young, — the mystic Sphynx 
unborn — and the scribes of the half civilized po- 
tentates of the ISTile traced uncouth characters 
upon leaf and tomb; since Celtic runes were 
graven upon the rock by the JSTorthern Sea; 
since the American aborigines first wrought 
their record and folk-lore in sea-shell hieroglyph- 
ics of gaudy wampum, it has been the custom of 
mankind to preserve the annals of its heroes, 
that future generations might look thereon and 
strive. 

When the Roman Catholic Church, the Daugh- 
ter and the Queen of History, inaugurated a 



6 AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

higher civilization, led by the spirit of the Incar- 
nate Word, the Supreme Psychologist, she has, 
likewise, taught that as thoughts are living 
things, the sublime suggestions, the fine enthu- 
siasm caught from the records of the great, are 
of vital import to the soul. 

Seeing with the vision of a prophet, she (the 
Church of Eome), knows the secret places where 
the world's true heroes dwell ; and in her libraries 
we find, side by side with the history of a Basil, 
a Jerome, a Cyril, a Thomas Aquinas and an 
Augustine, the life story of unlettered youths 
and maidens, and the biography of a Cure D^Ars. 

If then, dear reader, you sincerely wonder 
why the history of Louis Yally, the obscure son 
of peasant parentage, should be given to this 
twentieth century world, know that our Titan 
Age is groping toward the light, and humanity 
is beginning to recognize the truth, — as never 
before in the history of the race — that the men 
of power are the obscure workers of the social 
order, and that the most perfect growth attain- 
able by the soul is possible amid the lowliest and 
most adverse environment. The spirit of man 
transcends conditions ; the human soul is greater 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE 7 

than its lot. The world grows slowly wiser, and 
the puppet heroes, who so long have played upon 
its mimic stage, begin to perish and will shortly 
be consumed in the ardent fire of the Real. 

Soon all men will revere the immortal power 
of influence, and soon the real heroes of the gen- 
eration will issue from the wilderness, and men 
will hail them kings. Regenerated souls them- 
selves, they regenerate the social order ; and in 
comparison with their might, the laws of Lycur- 
gus, the speculation of Plato, the discovery of 
Columbus, the career of JSTapoleon and the inves- 
tigations of Edison, are as an insect's trail upon 
the ocean beach of racial progress. 

Like the lotus, the human soul grows best in 
the mould of an humble environment ; and like 
the nautilus in its normal development, the soul 
of man should move onward through ever wid- 
ening halls to its Ideal. 

" Build thee more stately temples, oh ! my sonl, 
As the swift seasons roll. 
Leave thy low vaulted past, 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast 
Till thou at length art free ; 
Leaving thine outgrown shell 
By life's unresting sea." 



8 AUTHOR'S PREFACE 

Such was the life of Louis Yally, — the life of 
flower and of nautilus ; a life of growth by cor- 
respondence with spiritual environment, with 
Divine inspiration ; and such a life belongs to all 
mankind. 

iRWIif HU]^TINGTON-BURTON. 





Contents 


PAGE 


CHAPTER 




I. 


A Son of the Soil . . . • i? 


II. 


Vox Dei ... , 






32 


III. 


The Mount of Wisdom . 






47 


IV. 


Quid Retribuam 






63 


V. 


The Levite . 






84 


VI. 


Intermezzo 






98 


VII. 


The Passage of the Wildernes 


s 




III 


VIII. 


Vox POPULI . 






134 


IX. 


The Seal of Melchisedek 






151 


X. 


Gethsemane . 






166 


XI. 


Via Crucis .... 






186 


XII. 


Laborare est Orare 






199 


XIII. 


A Man of the People 






219 


XIV. 


Recessional . 






237 


XV. 


The Touch of Midas 






253 


XVI. 


The Rocks of Massabielle 






272 


XVII. 


Soldiers of Sacrifice 






285 


XVIII. 


The Angel Azrael 






306 


XIX. 


The Palace of the King 






322 


XX. 


The Shechinah 






339 


XXI. 


The Revelation 






362 


XXII. 


The Gates Ajar 






382 


XXIII. 


Tabor 






401 


XXIV. 


The King's Token . 






415 


XXV. 


He Being Dead Yet Speaketh 
9 






. 431 



Illustrations 



Rev. Louis Vally, 1885 

Louis Vally, 1868 

Primitive Church and School in Meridian 

1877 .... 
Rev. Mother de Sales Browne, 1877 
Tomb of Rev. Louis Vally erected in 

1900 . . . . . 



. Frontispiece 
Facitig page 63 \J 

" " 199 ' 
" " 285 J 



11 



Introduction 

Somewhere in his " De Oratore," if I mistake 
not, Cicero says that there were as great men 
among the early Eomans as among the Greeks. 
That everybody knew of the Greek heroes be- 
cause their deeds had been recorded by enthu- 
siastic authors. But that the Roman people be- 
ing distinctively a people of ceaseless action had 
no time to write down for the benefit of posterity 
the noble deeds and character of their heroes, 
hence their works died with them. 

The same may be truly in a very special man- 
ner, said of the Diocesan priesthood of the South, 
if not everywhere. Being missionaries, they are 
essentially men of action : men who do much 
and say little : men who make heroic sacrifices 
and there is no note taken of them except by the 
great Recording Angel. In fact there is an ele- 
ment of moral sublimity in the very character of 
these men, which is elevating if not appalling. 
Like David, they go out single-handed and alone to 

13 



14 INTRODUCTION 

face obscurity and poverty, the world, the flesh, 
and the devil ; while the sun shines upon no land 
which has not been ennobled by their labors or 
purpled with their blood. 

The life of Father Yally recorded in the fol- 
lowing pages is the rule, not the exception. 
Ab uno, disce omnes. 

C. A. Olivee, D. D. 

Jackson i Miss.y Sept. ^j, igo^. 



PART I 

All the windows of my soul, I open to the day." 



CHAPTEK I 

A SON OF THE SOIL 

Deep in the heart of the " fleur-de-lys," the 
golden pollen shines ; and deep in the spirit of 
every son of France there lives, likewise, a 
golden light kindled in the sacred flame of sacri- 
fice. Across the mobile nature of the French, in 
every age and in every crisis, we find this domi- 
nant characteristic of self-sacrifice, manifested 
in one or another of its Protean forms : from the 
ascetic renunciation of a Saint Louis, down the 
long muster-roll of soldiers of the Lilies and the 
Cross to its manifestations in the deeds of a Joan 
of Arc or the chivalry of a Lafayette. 

Whether we read the history of La Salle, Pere 
Marquette, Joliet, the brothers Sauvolle, Iber- 
ville, Bienville, de Le Moyne ; — always amid the 
shadows of these variant characters, plays the 
one celestial ray, and from this flame of Gallic 
sacrifice, have been kindled, with few exceptions, 
the immortal beacons of Christianity throughout 

17 



18 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the two Americas, From court and cottage of 
vine-loved France, her strong men have gone 
forth, and above their countless graves, from 
Canada to the Gulf, wave the unseen, but im- 
mortal banners of " Excelsior." 

But, if the royal standard of " Eenunciation " 
has been lifted by Gallic hearts that came to 
birth in martial halls and in the palaces of kings ; 
still more frequently has her ensign been un- 
furled where grows the lily in its native soil, 
amid the provinces and by the peasantry of 
France. Clear hearted as the silver streams, and 
patient as the Loire that winds its shining threads 
about its country's heart, and strings her mead- 
ows in a rosary of malachite ; noble as the moun- 
tains whose brows are crowned with deathless 
snow, and fruitful as her vineyards that lift their 
purple clusters from ]S"ormandy to Lorraine, are 
the sons of the soil — the natives of Ardeche, 
from whose sturdy race sprang the boy whose 
life and labors have written their golden char- 
acters upon the history of the Catholic priest- 
hood of this republic. 

Like swallow nests amid the mossy eaves, 



A SON OF THE SOIL. 19 

nestles a little stone and brick cottage upon the 
gentle slopes of the vine-painted hamlet of 
Lavaudieu. Vines also bind the quaint gables 
to the bosom of the hills, in tender surety, that 
the home and the inhabitants thereof, are one 
with nature, and must not wander far from the 
breast of the great earth mother. The curling 
ribbon of the silver stream ties the vineyard 
with a love-knot, and from afar, the solemn 
mountains speak their variant gospels at the ris- 
ing and the setting of the sun. ISTearer by, lies 
the green plateau of Ardeche ; and on a slight 
elevation above the village, the church spire may 
be seen lifting the sunset like a streaming ban- 
ner from its shaft, fit symbol of the simple prayer 
that prisons all the glories of the universe. The 
notes of the Angelus fall musically upon the 
evening as though the sunset radiance had found 
utterance, and a lad of seven summers gathers 
the sheep that lie white upon the grass. 

Standing a moment in their midst, and calling 
them by name, — for by name he knows them 
well — he whistles lightl}^ to his dog, and flinging 
the little Ardeche bonnet upon his head, trudges 
slowly down the evening paths and disappears 



20 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

within the vine-loved cottage on the hill. Less 
robust than the peasants of his race, and of deli- 
cate frame, accentuated by the vivid colors of 
his rustic garb, is the younger son of the sturdy 1 

econome, now an independent vine grower of ■ 

Lavaudieu; for Simon and Marie Yally, also * 

natives of Lavaudieu, are typical scions of their 
race— the strong-souled, great-hearted bour- 
geoisie of Ardeche. 

A sturdy lad and lass blessed the union of this 
couple, then came Louis, the shepherd boy of our 
theme. Long before the rudiments of his educa- 
tion began, or the child took note of such simple 
literature as found its way to their humble 
home, the great Book of :t^ature began to unfold 
its fathomless mysteries to the younger son of 
the Yallys, and from its wondrous pages the lit- 
tle Louis drew the depth and tenderness, the 
rugged strength, the all-embracing love that 
were the signs manual of his future life. 

A delicate frame, unfitted for the rugged toil 
of the vine grower, prevented the lad from par- 
ticipating in the hereditary labors of his family ; 
while a deep sympathy, and a subtle comprehen- 
sion of the animal world, caused him to be as- 



A SOX OF THE SOIL. 21 

signed the care of his father's sheep, between 
which and himself, existed an almost human un- 
derstanding. 

The picturesque Church of St. Andrew nestles 
in a nook of Lavaudieu, where the sunlight loves 
to fall ; and from dawn until the musical notes 
of the Angelus have been echoed by the valleys 
and hushed by the mountains, the ancient spire 
is silhouetted against the purple horizon — a shin- 
ing finger pointing to the sky. At its conse- 
crated font the hardy sons of the house of Yally 
have, for generations, received the Living 
"Waters ; and in its humble choir, Simon Yally, 
father of Louis, leads the choir of males, and his 
wife, Marie, that of the females. Sweet and 
clear over the purple vineyards of Lavaudieu, 
ring the voices of the two Yallys ; now, a gay 
chanson^ now a chant (T amour, but most fre- 
quently a tender hymn to the Madonna, whose lit- 
tle shrine gleams like a day-star among the whis- 
pering and worshiping leaves of the vines ; and 
upon young Louis, falls the heritage of song. Ten- 
derly over the sleeping sheep float the melodies im- 
provised mainly from his deep love and awakening 
consciousness of the w^onder of life, and the sa- 



22 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

credness thereof. " And from those far off years 
among the radiant pastures, through the wilder- 
ness, the Via Crucis and the Yalley of the 
Shadows," that sweet song of the shepherd 
echoed on, strengthening, and deepening, and 
beautifying, the whole of his earthly life. 

Gently, from his pastoral hills, up the sacred 
mount of knowledge, is led our shepherd boy of 
Lavaudieu ; and we find him receiving his ele- 
mentary lessons from one of those devoted 
women known as " Sisters of Instruction," who, 
after the Revolution had decimated so many of 
the teaching orders of France, gave their lives 
and energies to the training of Catholic youth. 
These " Sisters of Religious Instruction" did 
not live in community, and were bound by 
no special rule. Singly, they would penetrate 
the most remote provinces of France ; and with 
the courage of the pioneer, and the love of the 
apostle, endure every species of hardship, in order 
to bring the light of education to the isolated 
children of their native land. Frequently, bred 
in circles of ultra refinement, these delicate 
women would endure the fatigue of difficult 
travel, and insufficient accommodation, with the 



A SON OF THE SOIL. 23 

zeal of a Hannah Moore, and the devotion of a 
Florence Nightingale. Such was the source 
from which the youthful Louis received the rudi- 
ments of common education, and the elements of 
that deeper science whose hieroglyphics are writ- 
ten everywhere on the universe of God. The 
picturesque ruin of the old abbey of Benedic- 
tines was the noble schoolroom in which the lit- 
tle peasant lads were gathered, and amid the 
weird old corridors, the crumbling arches, the 
echoing halls where silence brooded on her ivy 
mantled throne, and shadowy wings beat upon 
the holy solitude, the young Yally gained his 
first impressions of the sacredness, the mystery, 
the awful import of human life. The " Sister of 
Eeligious Instruction," was accustomed to wear 
a light veil as the garb of her office. Often, 
when the gentle face of the teacher was turned 
from him, the son of Simon Yally would grasp 
her drapery and press it reverently to his lips. 
To the awakening spiritual consciousness of the 
child, it seemed the visible emblem of the grace 
and love and inspiration that clothed the vener- 
able woman's life as with a mantle of imperish- 
able beauty. They weave in India, a web of 



24 FOR THE HOXOR OF THE KING. 

subtle tissue of such exquisite texture that it re- 
mains invisible until exposed to the dew, and it 
is hy the glittering drops alone, that one is made 
aware of its presence. Thus it is with the high- 
est life ; its sacred ministration is so subtle as to 
remain invisible until the silver dews of rescued 
souls are caught to gleam upon it. And, in the 
gentle " Sister of Instruction " who molded the 
youthful heart of Louis, this truth was beauti- 
fully manifest. 

Night fell still and starless one unusually 
gloomy evening, as a bevy of lads of the neigh- 
boring hamlet sally forth to the ancient castle, 
and filled with the spirit of mischief, conceive 
the design of playing a prank upon the vener- 
able " Sister of Instruction." The lady lives in 
a time-stained chamber reached by means of one 
of the gloomiest and most sepulchral of the 
abbey's corridors. Taking some phosphorus, the 
boys trace the outline of a human form upon 
one of the darkest places of the crumbling wall 
— now lie in wait for their unconscious victim. 
Slowly, the weary dame paces the hollow-sound- 
ing corridors, and suddenly comes face to face 
with the glowing apparition. A heartrending 



A SON OF THE SOIL. 25 

shriek! the gentle teacher lies prone upon the 
pavement. The prank has gone too far; the 
overwrought nerves have snapped, and, for a 
time, the ladj lies motionless. The terrified 
lads run for assistance ; the dame is carried to 
her apartment, and recovers from her swoon 
under the kindly ministrations of the villagers. 
And, as out of the tiny notes of music are 
wrought the grand orchestral symphonies, so 
from this minor episode of suffering in the noble 
teacher's life of sacrifice, the sensitive soul of 
Louis Tally wrought the mighty principle of 
renunciation into the fabric of his life and min- 
istry. But not precociously meditative, and in 
nowise grave beyond his years, is our little lad 
of Lavaudieu. On the contrary, a sprightly 
humor ripples over the graver undercurrent of 
his gentleness, as the sunlight ripples on the 
sleeping sea. The clever gift of repartee was 
his from earliest years, the keen perception of 
humor in all things ; a faculty — which perhaps, 
more than any other characteristic, sweetened 
and softened the varied difficulties, the abiding 
sorrows of his maturer years. And from the 
day when the tiny lad sallies forth on his first 



26 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

mission of importance — to haul canes for his 
father's vineyard, his native wit never forsakes 
him, and at times, it serves him well. A mirth- 
provoking picture is the wee son of Simon, wear- 
ing the funny little 'bonnet of Ardeche, and 
driving his plump donkey with as haughty pride 
as Alexander, when he rode Bucephelus. Be- 
hind the donkey is the skeleton-like wagon, with 
sprawling wheels and a pole in the middle, and 
upon the end thereof, the triumphant little Yally 
sits astride, as ecstatic as uncomfortable. Around, 
are the grave, historic woods ; above, the daffodil 
sky : and in the heart of the lad, is daffodil light, 
which he coins into merry words. A friendly 
grown-up neighbor, treading the forest aisles, 
enquires of Louis, " "What are you hauling, mon 
gargon f " The young workman, inflated with 
the importance of being entrusted with so great 
an errand anent his father's vineyard, glances 
mischievously at the sprawling ribs of his wagon, 
and makes answer straightway, "I'm hauling 
sand." 

But recurring more frequently than any other 
in the woof and warp of his opening life, is the 
shining strand of his tender love of animals. 



A SON OF THE SOIL. 27 

Between this child of Ardeche, reared so close to 
his native soil, that the rich earth odor perme- 
ates his spirit ; and the intuitive comprehension, 
the sympathy, the subtle comradeship with all 
creation, animate and inanimate, enters into him, 
and becomes part and parcel of his being. The 
old Greek myth of AntaBus has its foundation in 
a sublime truth of the universe; whenever the 
children of men come into contact with the 
great earth mother, they draw from her bosom, 
new strength and inspiration. 

Besides the sheep upon the morning hills, Louis 
has his little family of pets, and even the homely 
fowls of his mother's yard, the downy geese and 
noisy chanticleers, all know the boy and hail him 
" Bon ami." And it is in connection with the 
former much villified bird, that we hear the key- 
note of the more rugged characteristics of the 
lad. 

One sunny morning, the thrifty Simon and 
Marie Yally, after the manner of the sturdy folk 
of Lavaudieu, trudge to a neighboring market 
town with a goodly company of their snow white 
geese to sell therein. John, Marguerite, and 
Louis, are left behind, each to the separate task 



28 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

appointed by les tons parents. J^ow, the young 
Louis, intoxicated with the subtle wine of life, 
and the keen awakening of his own self-con- 
sciousness, hastens into the domicile, while his 
unconscious brother and sister are lingering with- 
out, bars doors and windows, and armed Avith a 
big horsewhip, keeps the hapless John and Mar- 
guerite at bay on the outside of the ramparts, 
until evening colors paint the watching hills, and 
Simon and Marie return from their journey, and 
unceremoniously run the blockade. The young 
Rienzi goes supperless to bed, a fact which in 
nowise lessens his sense of mastery, which feel- 
ing of elation the cookies of Grandmere surrep- 
titiously conveyed into Coventry do much to 
augment and to justify. And to this same 
Grandmere, dear soul that she was, did the 
grown-up Louis, in after years, owe many of the 
sweetest and tenderest memories of his heart. 

Such outbursts of self-assertion as the above, 
are merely the spra}^, not the silver current of 
his character ; into which, even in early child> 
hood, the music of his voice has stolen. ]N"atural 
amiability, evenness of temper, uniform gentle- 
ness, and abiding tenderness, are blended in the 



A SON OF THE SOIL. 29 

beautiful smile that is one of the most striking 
characteristics of his personality. Always fragile, 
but with clear, firmly-molded features, and the 
responsive blue eyes of the Ardeche peasant, our 
lad of Lavaudieu may pass unnoted among the 
sturdier sons of his native hamlet. Ever retiring, 
seldom conspicuous in their rude, though kindly 
games, but a certain thoughtfulness, an indescrib- 
able suggestion of concentration to the closely 
observant eye, marked the little Yally as one 
elected to enter the inner sanctuaries of life and 
thought, and upon whom the far-off splendor of 
Shechinah has already cast its imperishable ra- 
diance. About the period of seven years, the 
strong energies, the mental vitality of the boy, 
begin to manifest themselves in an eager desire 
to work — to labor somewhere, somehow ; and 
the incapacity of his constitution will be one of 
the means used by the Designer of human char- 
acter to develop the fallow spiritual forces within 
his earnest nature. 

As gently, and as imperceptibly as the diverse 
influences of earth and air and sea are absorbed 
into the life of the plant, and transmuted into the 
bloom and fragrance of the flower in nature's 



30 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

vast alembic, so are the unlovely incidents, the 
harsh and ungracious episodes, aye, even the sins 
and errors of the heart, melted in the chalice of 
Eternal Wisdom and changed into the holiest 
lessons and highest aspirations of our lives. And 
so, when Louis Yally is marched by his mother 
(by the ear), down the village street to the little 
church, and thrust into the confessional as pen- 
ance for some heedless prank there is wrought 
one of those wondrous changes which even upon 
so young a lad, leaves its shining mark forever- 
more. Kebellious, indignant, resentful, and 
wounded in pride, is the sobbing boy, as the ven- 
erable cure draws the little slide, and looks with 
mild eyes upon the youthful prodigal. The heart 
of the child is a veritable chaos. Stormy defi- 
ance rages within him. Gradually the boy grows 
calmer. The gray haired cure speaks. Some- 
how, somewhere, from some far off dawn the 
Light begins to break ; out of immeasurable dis- 
tance, a sudden quiet comes. The lad is still, his 
sobs are less frequent — now they cease. The 
cure murmurs on. The Light grows stronger — 
suddenly the radiance of some great love word 
flashes across the tired little heart now listening 



A SON OF THE SOIL. 31 

with rapt attention. With a cry, the lad leans 
forward, and the big hot tears fall thick and fast, 
but chaos is over, Cosmos is at hand. Into the 
turbulent spirit of the child steals a great, re- 
freshing sorrow — the deep, sweet grief of true 
repentance. And thus in the soul of the Yallys' 
son is wrought the wonder of his spiritual 
Genesis. 



CHAPTEE II 

vox DEI 

The shining sands within the glass fall silently 
and tell the perfect hour ; and gently the golden 
years of youth fall one by one within the sphered 
crystal of a noble human life. 

The shepherd boy of Lavaudieu, wise with the 
wisdom of the dawn and of the night, learned in 
the lessons of grass and wood and stream, in the 
deep philosophy of inanimate nature, in the glo- 
rious "Ethics of the Dust," reaches by grada- 
tions as gentle as his native sheep paths, the 
statue of perfect youth, radiant with hope and 
promise, sun-bright with love and all compelling 
faith. 

At the age of fourteen years, Louis Yally 
passes from the care of the noble Sister of In- 
struction to that of the teacher of the village 
high school, if the modest curriculum offered by 
its tutor entitles his establishment to so high- 
sounding a title. 

32 



vox DEL 33 

Little to win the heart, or kindle the inspira- 
tions of a lad like Louis, is afforded by the 
homely schoolhouse and daily regime of this 
commonplace rural academy. And to the shep- 
herd boy, accustomed to the freedom of the hills, 
to the varied delights of open air life in the beau- 
tiful region of Lavaudieu, the confinement of the 
school grows irksome and the lad chafes under 
the unfamiliar restrictions. 

And yet, the quaint moss-grown schoolhouse is 
not without its homely beauty. Through the 
broad, low windows, the trembling vine leaves 
weave shadow tapestries, changing, kaleidoscopic, 
like the destinies of the little peasants being 
fashioned every moment by another Light shin- 
ing amid the gloom of Evil. 

Within, the unmolested spider spins her won- 
drous web from viewless looms of light and air. 
Everywhere, the silver wheels are turning. In 
the green pastures without, the young lambs 
sleep beside the stream and great-eyed cattle 
doze in deep content. Anon, the clear tinkle of 
a sheep bell sounds close beside the schoolhouse 
door. At the sweet, familiar music, Louis Yally 
half arises from his bench and his fresh, 3-oung 



34 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

heart thrills with the love of the old pastoral life 
and the keen desire to return unto it, — the voice 
of the fields is calling ! But the lad must heed 
it not. The shepherd of Lavaudieu is to watch 
in other pastures, and to guide his flocks upon 
the meadow-lands of God. 

In the mature life of Louis Yally no allusion 
is made to the history of the village Pedagogue ; 
but the simple uprightness, the homely maxims, 
the unswerving rectitude of the schoolmaster 
have an abiding influence upon the character of 
his pupil. 

Though warm-hearted and naturally respon- 
sive, Louis does not make any close friendship 
while under the instruction of the rural school- 
master. But in the warp and woof of human 
life, the prismatic skeins of character are blended 
by the fingers of environment into strange and 
wonderful patterns. I^ot a stream flows, a 
flower blooms, or a mocking-bird sings where one 
human eye can see, or one human heart can hear 
them, but the strength and purity, the fragrance 
and the song thereof enters the soul and becomes 
a part of its nature forevermore. And the 
Master Teacher, who instructs in many ways. 



vox DEI. 35 

who has given us Eevelation and who has given 
us nature, meant the latter to enter, even as the 
former, into our plastic spirits, and to impart to 
them its supreme lesson. With Louis Yallj, as 
with other men whose lives are great and simple, 
the gospel of the fields, the literature of the for- 
est, remained until the end, the source of noble 
inspiration. But the second revelation is soon to 
come. 

A Sabbath dawn replete with peace, the peace 
that loves to dwell in the morning vineyards of 
Lavaudieu, spreads its dove-like wings above the 
hamlet. Simon and Marie Tally, accompanied 
by the elder children, have disappeared down the 
village path, leaving the young Louis in the cot- 
tage home. A painful cut upon the foot keeps 
the boy a prisoner, and the restless lad is chafing 
under his enforced inaction, as a venerable 
stranger approaches the humble door. He is 
about to knock with his pilgrim's staff, when 
Louis, who has been idly watching the fleecy 
clouds drift into the infinite, recognizes the vis- 
itor's holy garb and hastens to unlatch the door ; 
kneeling first, as is the custom of the peasant of 
Ardeche, to receive his priestly benediction. As 



36 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the serious eyes of the little lad are lifted to the 
pilgrim's countenance, a wistful look steals over 
the kindly features of the latter and the stranger 
speaks, gently passing his hand the while over 
the child's uplifted brow. 

" Surely, you are Simon Yally's son, my little 
man. I seem to see your father in you, as I 
knew him long ago ; and it is he I seek for he is 
my dear kinsman." 

" You are a priest — a holy priest — and yet our 
kinsman ! " the delighted boy exclaims. " Surely, 
you will tarry with us for a while. The 
family have gone to Mass, mon Pere, but if you 

will kindly stay with me " " Of all things 

I should like that, little one, but" — a graver 
look flits swiftly over the countenance of the 
priest — " why are you not, likewise, at the 
Sabbath Mass ? " 

Timidly, the boy puts forth his foot and the 
good Cure Yally looks sympathetically upon it. 

" Perhaps my little one would forget the pain 
if he could sit a while by yonder stream." 

Louis' face grows radiant but quickly clouds 
again as he casts a rueful glance at the swollen 
member. 



vox DEL 37 

" IS'ay, man Pere, I cannot walk. The cut is 
bad " 

^'Aha! that need not hinder," replies the 
stranger priest ; " see, I will have you there in a 
twinkling." 

Before the blushing lad can offer protest, the 
kindly stranger snatches him from the ground 
and takes the fishing-tackle from the wall. A 
few sturdy strides bring the new companions to 
the border of the village stream. 

So still the place, so full of soft, prismatic 
light, the Sabbath grace seems visible upon it 
and the voices of unseen birds sing jubilant 
Glorias amid the mysterious leaves. 

The willow boughs bend low above the water 
and the soft monotone of the reeds, the gentle 
swaying of the lilies, and the cool tinkle of the 
stream calm the overwrought nerves of the lad. 
Little by little, the soothing fingers of the water 
woo the feverish foot ; and before the cure can 
remonstrate, Louis stands triumphantly in the 
midst of the shallow branch. 

" Surely, you are rash, my little one, and your 
wound will be greatly injured. You must not 
linger in the water — come." 



38 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

"A moment, mon Pere.^'' The reluctant 
boy hesitates, bent upon his will. Seeing his 
irresolution, the cure is silent for an instant. 
Now, as a sudden inspiration flashes over him, 
he exclaims in solemn tones : — " Louis, do you 
know you may become a priest of God some 
day ? " Half dazzled and suddenly startled by 
so glorious a prediction, the lad sways forward 
and almost loses his balance. A swift pallor 
sweeps across his features and is succeeded by a 
burning flush that makes him tingle with strong 
excitement. 

Another moment. Only the swish of the 
lilies, the sob of the reeds, the stirring of leaves 
break the quivering silence. Now 

"Can that be true, mon Pere ; may Louis 
Yally be a priest some day ? " 

" Surely, my son, if he will pray and labor to 
that end." 

A sudden sunbeam, piercing through the 
trees, kindles a halo upon the brow of the boy ; 
and a light reflected from the "sea of glass" 
burns in the smile that glorifies his features. 

" Then, mon Pere^^'' says the enthusiastic lad, 
his deep emotion finding utterance ; " then, mon 



vox DEL 39 

Pere^ Louis Yally will pray and will also work 
if you will teach him how." 

And from the white lips of the lilies, from the 
voice of the forest, from the crystal chant of the 
water seems to come the echo : — 

^''Worh andprayy 

It is the psalm of all creation, the golden 
canticle of the human soul. When the light of 
the first morning dawned above the virgin 
pastures, and when the first human spirit sprang 
rejoicingl}^ from the fiat of the Creator, the man- 
date, " Worlc and pray,^^ was given alike to 
nature and to the soul. And ever since, between 
the two eternities, rolls the watchword through 
the universe, and by the spirit of Louis Yally is 
caught and echoed evermore. 

" If you will teach me, mon Pere^'' the lad re- 
peats, as he reaches the shore and casts himself 
rapturously at the feet of the cure. 

" Aye, I will teach you, boy, and will take you 
to my home if your good parents will permit." 

And so it comes to pass, that out of the un- 
expected visit of the Cure Yally to the home of 
bis distant kinsman, comes the light that leads 
the youthful Louis to the Sanctuary of the Lord. 



40 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

But slight opposition is made by the noble 
Simon and Marie to the generous proposal of 
their kinsman ; though the sturdy pair have sore 
misgivings, for young Louis has made no great 
progress in the village school, and they hesitate 
as to the wisdom of giving him further educa- 
tion, reasoning in their simple way, that the life 
of the shepherd seems best to suit the lad. And 
so it will ; — the life of the shepherd within whose 
fold immortal spirits gather for guidance and for 
inspiration. 

And the oil of predilection from the cruse of 
the King anoints the youthful soul of Louis 
Tally, even as the oil of Samuel consecrated 
that other Shepherd in the fragrant fields of 
Israel. 

Across the threshold of the mystic temple 
wherein the intellectual life enshrines its apoca- 
lyptic splendors, — the fane of classical literature 
— our neophyte is now about to pass. The son 
of the Yallys, still frail in body, but strong in 
grace and noble aspiration, enters the little 
hamlet and becomes an inmate of his kinsman's 
heart and home. 'Not unlike his native village 
of Lavaudieu is the new habitat in which the 



vox DEL 41 

shepherd boy is destined to obtain his first 
glimpse of the mighty universe of mind, to 
stand face to face with man's mental power and 
possibilities. The mossy shrine of the Great 
Mother gleams here, as elsewhere, in the sunny 
provinces of France ; and the austerer home of 
the cure is not unlike the cottage at Lavaudieu, 
save for the atmosphere of learning that pene- 
trates all things as with a subtle aroma. To the 
mountain-nurtured, forest-tutored lad, here also, 
as at the high school of Ardeche, the restraint 
is irksome, the battle with ennui fierce and long. 
But on the morning hill of Wisdom a far off 
light is breaking, and the first thrills of the 
rapture and inspirations of knowledge are born 
within the sensitive soul of the student. 

Again the subtle Spirit of Environment lays 
her hand upon the boy, slowly, but deftly mold- 
ing his moral and intellectual nature. The high, 
pure standards of the cure, the simple, vital 
work that goes on daily before the eyes of the 
young Louis, the routine of the little household 
and, — perhaps as much as any other influence, 
—the homely discipline of the cure's elderly 
housekeeper, w^ho has taken the boy under 



42 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

her motherly protection, but from whose rigid 
regulations of order and punctuality there can 
be no dispensation, all become factors in his 
spiritual and mental evolution at this period. 

After the free, truant life of Lavaudieu, the 
character of Louis requires the kindly, but 
austere jurisdiction of the household Martha; 
and in this, the day of her homely rule, the 
stern necessity and significance of sacrifice, the 
magnitude of the work to be done for the King, 
begins to dawn within the soul of the boy and 
the likeness of the Master to form within his 
heart. 

As yet no note of the sacrificial chant of the 
missionary life has awakened the echo of his 
being. The Angel of the Future is silent ; but 
the Angel of the Present, bright Gabriel of 
human destinies, is designing his eternal plans. 

]^ot without intermission, however, is the life 
within the cure Yally's home a period of re- 
straint. There are still, sweet hours after the 
daily tasks are done, when the shepherd boy 
steals back to the fresh embrace of the woodland 
solitude — the child of nature, unto nature's 
heart. It is during these intimate and joyous 



vox DEL 43 

communions that the lessons of the cure unfold 
their real messages to the lad and the soul of 
Louis Yally gains its higher education from the 
lips of the forest and the Protean life that teems 
around him. 

In this, the formative, and in many respects 
the most important period of his life and de- 
velopment, the basal characteristics of the boy 
are strikingly in evidence, deepening, broaden- 
ing, refining into the pure traits of a strong and 
beautiful character. 

"While in the little presbytery of the Cure 
Yally, Louis' love for animals seems to 
strengthen each day, his worship of nature 
deepens, and a tenderness for the little ones 
of Christ's kingdom begins to bud and blossom 
and bring forth immortal fruit within his nature. 

Slowly, as a royal flower opens through the 
tropic night, filling the dark with its soul of fra- 
grance, penetrating and transforming all things, 
the wonder-flower of the 'New Testament un- 
folds its golden heart unto the vision of the little 
Louis, insinuating its perfume through his awak- 
ening faculties, impregnating and glorifying the 
shadows of his intellect with the aroma of its in- 



44 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

spirations. Under its sublime and subtle influ- 
ence, the dormant powers of the boy expand, and 
into the boundless realm of true philosophy, the 
neophyte passes with wonder and with awe. 
Beneath the vital breath of living literature, the 
being of the lad becomes transfigured, and his 
more abounding life finds its expression in 
solemn aspirations, virgin hopes and high en- 
thusiasm. Issuing from his combined emotions, 
at once their offspring and their crown, is his 
keener realization of the glory and the power of 
the priestly state. 

Still, the staff of the missionary is unnamed by 
his desire ; at this significant period, his predilec- 
tion, as far as defined, seems rather to lean to 
the career of a parish priest. His young affec- 
tions twine about the hamlets of his native 
France, even as her fruitful vines embrace her 
hills. As yet, the great extremes of life are un- 
revealed to the pupil of the Cure Yalley. In 
this little village more like a great family than a 
typical town, both Lazarus and Dives are un- 
known. G-reat spiritual destitution does not ex- 
ist ; for, like the silver brook that tinkles through 
the village street, the lives of the godly peasant 



vox DEL 45 

folk run placidly on to the ocean of Eternity. 
The supreme contrasts that exist in the great 
cities are not found in the hamlet, and the sor- 
rowful-eyed Magdalen appears rarely in the 
midst. The cruel need, the horrid putrefaction 
of the crowded haunts of men is a sealed volume 
to the Yallys' son. Of these people it may be 
said : — 

*' Far from the maddening crowd's ignoble strife 
Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; 
Along the cool sequester'd vale of life 
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way." 

But babes are born among them, and young 
lovers wed ; and babes and lovers, as well as 
older folk, are placed anon, beneath the daisy 
'broidered carpet of the little churchyard. Here, 
as elsewhere, is enacting the mighty, mournful 
mystery of life. And our neophyte reads the 
tender, human lesson, the wonderful lesson that 
every man must learn in the transit from the 
cradle to the grave. 

All around the little Yally is nature's sublime 
symbolism. And it chances by that great Kis- 
met whose higher name is God, that the boy 
draws vital lessons from the quaint and simple 
teachings of La Fontaine^ the author most kin- 



46 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

dred to his thoughts, the author nearest nature's 
heart. And from the pregnant pages of the 
Gospels and the homely images of the French 
Philosopher, Louis Yally derives the inspirations 
of his career more than from any other litera- 
ture. By this twofold light thrown upon his 
kindling intellect, the lad who knows the wood- 
land ways and numbers every wild flow^er in the 
neighboring meadows, finds the golden key of 
the human spirit and the sacred path unto the 
[New Jerusalem. 



CHAPTEE III 

THE MOUNT OF WISDOM 

High in the universe of God, sun-bright with 
the reflected light of the Eternal Mind, stands 
the sacred Mount of Wisdom, and upon its royal 
foundation beat the bleeding brows of all human- 
ity. The steep path leading to the radiant sum- 
mit is thronged by an eager press in its lower 
reaches ; but few pilgrims travel the higher level 
of its solemn ways, and upon its blazing crest 
stand only the chosen ones whose minds have 
opened to the touch of inspiration, and have 
found amid the dross of false philosophies and of 
human ethics, the cabalistic stone of Love, to in- 
dicate the way, in and out of the shadows of 
error across the chasm of fallacies, the rushing 
torrents of natural science, the icy ledges of 
metaphysics, the sealed and chosen few, have 
reached the white plateau where dwells the 
Light. Of the elect few who stand upon the 
summit, most have bleeding hearts and brows ; 

47 



48 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

but anon, a pilgrim — for his true simplicity is 
lifted by the power of faith and prayer and 
stands scathless and victorious upon the holy 
Mount. 

When Louis Yally, the shepherd boy of La- 
vaudieu, leaves the humble shelter of his kins- 
man's roof to become a student in the college of 
Briere, the child-hearted lad stands in awe and 
trepidation, but with strong yearning, at the foot 
of the wonderful Mountain. 

From the deep seclusion, the isolated life and 
work in the cure's domicile to the keen contests 
of mind and will in the halls of the preparatory 
college the transition is abrupt, and the new en- 
vironment trying to young Louis. Like the deli- 
cate bloom of the sensitive plant the j^outh 
shrinks as it were, within himself for the nonce. 
But the excessive timidity is soon conquered and 
the flower blooms again — the innate sympathy 
and kindness of the little Yally bring him into 
gentle and cordial relations with his fellow stu- 
dents, by w^hom he is at once and continually 
beloved. Of Louis Yally during the early 
months of his college life one may write with 
truth to transpose the poet's line, " Wisdom flies, 



THE MOUNT OF WISDOM. 49 

but knowledge lingers." The severe application 
required by the college routine, the stern strug- 
gle for classical knowledge, is a still more severe 
ordeal to the youth, than his work with the Cure 
Yally. The old pastoral life has indeed unfitted 
him for the serious application of the schools, 
and the son of Lavaudieu, like the Cure of Ars, 
makes no creditable record in the academic halls. 
But amid the struggle and the superficial failure, 
always the golden lesson of his life is being 
learned ; always the forming character approach- 
ing its high ideal, and surely, too, though slowly, 
the intellect of the lad expands. From the love 
of La Fontaine and the devotion of the ISTew 
Testament in which we have respectively the 
moral and spiritual philosophy of nature, the 
transition to the natural sciences is easy ; and in 
the study of physics Louis Yally finds illumina- 
tion and delight. With the symmetrical growth 
of the plant his deep love of nature in all her 
phases begins to put forth leaf and flower. 
Stronger and more distinctly amid the clamorous 
tongues of science and philosophy, the one rhyth- 
mic call, the sweet still voice of nature, musical 
with the harmonies of sap and bud and sea, 



50 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

sounds ever in his ears, and as in the home of 
Lavaudieu, and the vicarage of Ardeche, Louis 
Yally returns at joyous intervals to v^ood and 
stream and field, to drink the strong wine of na- 
ture. And always, after these solitary excur- 
sions, the boy resumes his duties with new zest, 
renewed in soul and body, l^ext to his predilec- 
tion for natural science, and portraying with 
equal force another salient characteristic of the 
young Yally, is his deep interest in the higher 
mathematics and in the seemingly incongruous 
alliance of the two, we will find the key-note of 
the power and the practical effectiveness of his 
future life of ministry. In the glorious laby- 
rinths of the latter mighty science, the eager 
mind of our student loves to wander ; and per- 
haps no other factor has more influence upon his 
character than this search for demonstrable 
truth, for essential order, for the central fact 
from which he will never turn aside in after 
years, no matter what allurements offer. 

As the variant colors of the prism unite to 
form the pure white light, so the cardinal virtues 
of the human heart are blended and transfigured 
into a Christlike character. The rose hue of 



THE MOUNT OF WISDOM. 51 

love blooms in its depths; the purple of self- 
sacrifice sheds its royal lustre, and the gold of 
prayer — prayer, the soul's communion with the 
Infinite gleams over all. We pass then, by a nat- 
ural progression, to that period in the life of 
Louis Yally in which his spirit begins to find ex- 
pression in characteristic devotion and it is about 
this time that we see him evincing profound and 
tender love for the Eosary of the Queen. 

Wherever, within the Catholic Church, the 
current of a human character has run deepest ; 
wherever the strength that scales the heights of 
thought and beats at the gates of chrysoprase 
has been made manifest ; wherever the light of 
Eevelation has kindled the human intellect, the 
nature has been made strong, the mind has 
drawn its vigor from the power that dwells 
within the Chaplet. And the fifteen meditations 
running the gamut of human need, satisfying 
alike the deepest philosophy and the most untu- 
tored love are mighty fountains of inspiration 
and intellectual achievement. 

In all ages it has been in the inner chamber of 
meditation — in the Holy of Holies of silent 
thought that priest and poet, scientist and seer 



52 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

have seen the wondrous vision and have been 
girded with the armor of the strong. The cus- 
tom of the Middle Ages by which the aspirant to 
knighthood was compelled to watch the dark 
hours through before some lonely shrine is the 
symbol of the truth that rules the universe of 
mind, everywhere from the great archangel, 
from the seraphim rapt in ecstasies of intellec- 
tual delight before the throne through the 
mighty roll of the prophets — to Elijah, Isaiah and 
St. John, through the strong contemplative 
Orders, crown jewels on the breast of the Ro- 
man Catholic Church — to the humblest being 
who seeks a quiet place that he may commune 
with the Divine, the history of all inspiration has 
been the history of meditation, and only in some 
lonely Patmos are Eevelations found. Thought 
is power ; meditation is sj^stematic thought, and 
of greater potency than the menti-culture of the 
psychologist, are the meditations contained in 
awful simplicity within the decades of the Ro- 
sary. Of the supreme science of Christianity the 
Rosary is the crowning science, epitomizing and 
transcending the theories of the ancient religions, 
and cults of modern civilization. To the expand- 



THE MOUNT OF WISDOM. 53 

ing nature of Louis Yally the meditations of the 
Kosary begin to unfold their wonderful beauties. 
Deeper and more intelligent will grow his love 
of this devotion, becoming in after years one of 
the most prolific fountains of his happiness and 
power. 

Upon a spur of the royal mountains that like 
strong sons of God stand sentinel around it, in 
the province of Puy De Dome is a collossal 
statue of the Queen of Heaven moulded from the 
cannon taken by the first Napoleon during his 
Russian campaign. When seen from afar the 
gigantic proportions of the statue melt into 
graceful outlines, pencilled by the gentle atmos- 
phere and painted by the golden light of France. 
For miles the Enf ant-de-Marie can see the object 
of his devotion. Far and wide the pilgrims 
come. And over the undulating clover-painted 
meadows, like summer seas lightly tipped with 
foam ; and upon the purple vineyards and the 
golden grain, the Mistress of the Harvest sheds 
her silent benediction. 

To the mountain shrine of Puy De Dome the 
students of the vicinity make many pilgrimages, 
led thither at times, by the ardor of the lad of 



64 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Lavaudieu, who frequently seeks the majestic 
spot alone. There amid the sacred solitude of 
the mountain temple the soul of our present boy 
grows great and strong. A college of the Jesuits 
near by makes a welcome caravansary for the 
young devotees, and Louis and his comrades often 
seek refreshment beneath its kindly roof. Isow, 
the sacred shuttles of the Master Weaver are al- 
ways fashioning the tapestry of the soul ; and 
the golden threads of power and inspiration are 
wrought therein during moments when we seem 
to rest and when the spirit is least conscious of 
the workings of the Divine. It is therefore 
while engaged in unimportant occupations, or 
even trivial pastimes that we frequently learn 
our noblest lessons and find our most vital ex- 
perience. ISTot from the red-letter days are the 
vivid happenings that show their silhouettes 
upon the background of human life does char- 
acter take its dominant color; not by great 
events are great men moulded but by the unob- 
trusive though subtle influences that work within 
the spirit. 

High above the passing pilgrims in the attic 
story of the great college of the Society of Jesus, 



THE MOUNT OF WISDOM. 55 

dwelt, during the middle half of the nineteenth 
century an aged member of the Order of Igna- 
tius whom the relentless hand of chronic rheuma- 
tism had chained to his chair. Far removed from 
the sights and sounds of the college, the vener- 
able invalid sat alone, his withered feet ensconced 
within a box full of straw. But his blind, love- 
lit eyes, young with faith, merged anon into vi- 
sion seemed to gaze beyond the noble stretch of 
woodland to the mysterious horizon ; while his 
ardent spirit passed yet on and on — beyond the 
sapphire sky, beyond the pure ether, on and up- 
ward to the universal home where spirits live in 
the white immensity of God. Up to the old 
man's room Louis Yally climbed one day, and in 
the bare little cell there came unto his spirit a 
message from the lips and life of the glorious in- 
valid. Straightway, the sympathetic spirit of 
the lad sprang forth in words of tender condo- 
lence — " The time must seem weary, Father ; what 
can you do the whole day long ? " " My son," 
the aged sufferer made answer, " God's universe 
is very great. I journey through His Kingdoms. 
I begin first where the cherubim keep the outer 
portals of the Heavens and pass right on through 



56 FOR THE HOiN^OR OF THE KING. 

the nine angelic choirs unto the utmost world 
where the burning seraphim adore, and the 
strong archangels stand before the utmost shrine 
— they let me pass, I have the watchword — and 
then I kneel before the central throne, and then 
— but ah ! too soon, the bell for supper rings and 
with a sigh I must return. The time was all too 
short for so much ecstasy, but soon the morrow 
comes and with each morrow I make the journey 
over ! It is a pity, lad, that men must sleep, 
must squander precious hours in an unconscious 
state, when such glories circle round." 

And to the student Louis upon whose spiritual 
horizon the first faint light of dawn was break- 
ing came another revelation like a shaft of purest 
gold to haste the coming of his spirit's perfect 
day ; the message this, " Time is all too brief for 
the earnest laborer ; the moments hasten and 
thou art standing idle while the wine-press and 
the vines await thee." 

Through the jeweled portal of the Rosary, the 
lad of Lavaudieu passes with burning heart and 
wondering spirit into the inner sanctuary of 
Christian- Catholic inspiration — the earthly Taber- 
nacle of the living Man of Galilee. The meas- 



THE MOUNT OF WISDOM. 67 

ureless beauty of the Incarnation, and the Divine 
tragedy of the Eedemption are lost in the mys- 
tery and wonder of the lowliest chapel, where the 
Master of Nature dwells in nature's humblest 
form, and the infinite power, the uncreated intel- 
lect, the glories of the great I Am are folded 
within the prison house of the altar. The su- 
preme tragedy, the unutterable pathos of the low- 
liness of the Christ of the tabernacle — unheeded 
by the teeming tides of humanity ; neglected by 
the mighty multitude of his own elect, — appeal 
so powerfully to the thoughtful sensitive spirit of 
the youth that he attained therefrom the supreme 
inspiration of his life, and the spirit and likeness 
of the Master began to be formed within him. 
What wonder then, that as the vast celestial har- 
monies begin to roll their sacred choirs through 
the soul of Louis Yally that the always beautiful 
voice of the boy takes on richer sweetness. Ever 
called upon to sing the Magnificat — within whose 
golden depths the highest harmony abides and 
the soul-moving tones of the Miserere in the col- 
lege chapel, the growing power of his voice found 
expression and the nameless sacred longings of 
his spirit were given utterance. The shepherd of 



68 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Ardeche has now reached a period which may be 
called the " Jubilate " of his life. 

But amid the glorious symphonies one sweet 
familiar voice is always heard — the voice of na- 
ture — the harmonies of the earth, air and field 
calling the would-be Levite and never calling him 
in vain. Throughout his college career — and 
later in the seminary and mighty school of hu- 
man experience Louis Yally was noted for his 
love of athletic sports and every pastime that 
would lead him out beneath the open sky and 
into the golden sunshine. Often in the free green 
pastures his always happy humor, his sparkling 
wit would excite his comrades to merry laughter. 
One day after an unusually boisterous outburst — 
the face of the lad became suddenly clouded, and 
the merry jest was abruptly checked. Turning 
to one of his teachers the lad remarked while his 
frank eyes began to fill with tears, "Father, I 
fear I can never be a priest, I am not grave 
enough." "My boy," replied the Sulpician, 
"laugh all you can, the time will come when 
nothing will make you laugh." But, it never 
did. To the little shepherd of Lavaudieu, and 
wiser in his boyish way than the old Sulpician 



THE MOUNT OF WISDOM. 59 

and destined by the designs of the Master to 
reach greater heights of love and sacrifice than 
the venerable tutor, there never came that time ; 
but through all the heat and the burden of ma. 
turer years the genial laughter echoed on, endear- 
ing him to the old and careworn, endearing him 
to those of other folds, above all endearing him 
to little children. 

It is about this period that the appreciation of 
the supreme power of the priesthood begins to 
grow within him, to possess and absorb his fac- 
ulties, to permeate his being. So great becomes 
his awe at this time, that it would be sufficient 
to cast the gloom of despondency over a less 
sunny spirit. But to the lad of our theme, it is 
but the dawning of a new and wonderful light — 
a glory that does not extinguish, but intensifies 
the radiance of his human nature. The restless 
energy and sprightly wit of the young Louis 
found pleasing vent in the dramatic entertain- 
ments of the college for which he had no mediocre 
talent. Long afterward, when he had played 
his noble part in the drama of real life he was 
wont to tell his flock how in those early days he 
was always — in the little plays — assigned the 



60 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

villain's part! It is in his college career that 
Louis Tally's tender sympathy with every phase 
of moral or physical need becomes more and 
more accentuated. Even at this time he is the 
resource and consolation of delinquent students 
and is wont by unselfish manoeuvres to shield 
them from the college Nemesis. A manly, 
straightforward lad, beloved for his manliness 
and notable because of an indefinable atmosphere 
of depth and strength that marks his presence as 
the perfume betrays the hidden flower ; though 
naturally shy and of a retiring disposition, Louis 
Yally is universally popular with his fellow 
students and receives from his professors an un- 
usual tribute of respect. One of the faculty, the 
professor of moral philosophy, a man of strong 
and well-poised character who intuitively per- 
ceived the germs of beauty and of greatness 
within the spirit of our student, gave him the key 
of his private apartment and the privilege of 
studying in the early morning by his fire. Louis 
Yally was in the habit of assiduously serving the 
Masses of the priest in question, and it was in 
recompense for the boy's untiring zeal that this 
singular privilege seems to have been bestowed. 



THE MOUNT OF WISDOM. 61 

Of all the college faculty, the professor above men- 
tioned seems to have approached the lad more 
nearly and to have judged his inner nature and to 
have recognized his splendid promise more nearly 
than any other. At this period as in his earlier 
years, there is little about the personal appearance 
of the son of Simon Yally that could single him out 
for special notice. A trifle more indifferent to 
his clothing than most lads of his age, and caring 
little for his personal appearance, though scrupu- 
lously neat, the young Yally is likewise backward 
in his collegiate course. No brilliancy marks his 
career ; no classical honors record his passing 
through the academic halls; but slowly, step by 
step, each passing year, the shepherd of Lavau- 
dieu climbs the lower reaches of the "Mount of 
Wisdom " and writes his name upon the roll of 
honor of the universe. 

Louis finishes his classical course at the col- 
lege of the Sulpicians in about three years — years 
uneventful to outward seeming — years monot- 
onous in repetition — the red letter days being 
the visits of the good Marie Yally and the blue 
ones those filled by a dreary attack of rheuma- 
tism which obliged the boy to be taken for six 



62 FOR THE HOI^OR OF THE KING. 

months to his Ardeche home. There his 
father's tenderness grew more tender ; and the 
student who had closed his classics opened the 
great volume of suffering. More than the 
tutorage of instruction, more than the lessons of 
the kindly Cure Yalley, more than the teachings 
of the erudite Sulpicians, was the lesson learned 
in the humble home of Lavaudieu, when the 
restless, active, yearning boy was sentenced to 
inaction. The varied energies of mountain and 
wood and stream were in evidence around him ; 
the mighty forces of the universe were mar- 
shaled before his inner vision — the life of the 
day — the strength of the night. All things in- 
tensified the misery of inaction ; all nature in- 
creased his longing to be about the Master's busi- 
ness. But in the fiery halls of pain, in the 
solemn temples of solitude and meditation, the 
soul of the young Levite is brought face to face 
with self, and face to face with the eternal 
majesty of Truth. 



I 




Louis Vally, 1868. 



CHAPTER lY 

QUID EETEIBUAM 

Upon a beautiful branch of the river Saone in 
the province of Haut Loire, not far from the 
picturesque Cevennes Mountains, the historic 
Seminary of Le Puj uplifts its majestic walls, 
forming the central figure of a landscape sin- 
gularly lovely even amid the loveliness of 
Southern France. Famed in legend and in 
history is the venerable town of Puy-en-Yelay ; 
its glorious pedigree running back to the First 
Crusade, when Aldemar de Monteil, the scion of 
an illustrious family of France represented the 
Pontiff, Urban II in the army of the Cross. 
The noble Seminary established by M. Olier has 
proved through several centuries the prolific 
fountain from which have flowed the living 
waters of spiritual inspiration. Le Puy was 
taken possession of by the order of St. Sulpice and 
'because of the effective work done by the society 

63 



64: FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

and the unusual character of its rules, the Sulpi- 
cians merit more than a passing mention. 

M. Olier, the founder of this remarkable Con- 
gregation, was born in Paris, Sept. 20, 1608. 
It is said that though destined by his parents for 
an ecclesiastical career, his natural liveliness of 
disposition and his fiery temper made them 
doubtful of his fitness for the ministry ; but the 
great St. Francis de Sales himself assured them 
of the boy's remarkable future. The young 
Olier became a priest about the year 1633, and 
afterward several times refused the episcopal 
dignity. In 1642 this remarkable man laid the 
foundations of a community for the direction of 
a seminary at Yaugiraud, whence he subsequently 
moved with his companions to Paris, and became 
parish priest of the Church of St. Sulpice. From 
St. Sulpice therefore, the celebrated order de- 
rived its name " Sulpician." When the storm of 
the revolution burst over France, the wise 
Superior in charge at that period sent a small 
delegation of Sulpicians to the United States, 
and one of their traveling companions was the 
famous Yiscount de Chateaubriand. After a 
voyage of three months they reached Baltimore 



QUID RETRIBUAM. 65 

and founded the notable St, Mary's Seminary, 
which stands to-day, a magnificent monument to 
the Order. 

The members of the Sulpicians are bound by 
no vows ; it is a communit}^ of specialists and 
the sagacity of its Founder anticipating the most 
advanced educational theories of the twentieth 
century, devoted all the spiritual and mental 
energies of its members to the training of the 
young Lfcvites for the service of the Altar. 
Although unlike specifically, we are here re- 
minded of the noble order of the Jesuits whose 
deep learning and profound intellectuality are 
focused upon the illumination and guidance of 
the soul. 

From the celebrated Seminaries of St. Sulpice, 
have come nearly all of the most effective and 
best equipped workers in the priesthood. When 
we find then, the peasant boy of Lavaudieu 
entering the academic hall of Le Puy, Haut 
Loire and placing himself under the guidance of 
its gifted faculty, a rich and fruitful period of his 
life is inaugurated and one of the crises which 
determine his future destiny approaches. 

In the home of the Cure Yally and at the pre- 



66 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

paratory college, the young student was, in 
greater or less degree, under the kindly care of 
his dear ones and the influence of his home. In 
these days of rapid transit and this country of 
magnificent distances, the tiny journey from 
Lavaudieu to Le Puy would be considered un- 
worthy of the name of " journey " at all ; but more 
than fifty years ago in the primitive parish of 
Ardeche and Haut Loire the one who made the 
trip was looked upon as a traveler indeed ; and 
it was with a profound sense of his separation 
from his family and youthful environment that 
Louis Yally bade adieu to his people and turned 
his steps unto Le Puy. To the boy it was the 
Eubicon that divides the years of youth from the 
years of manhood. 

In the stately Seminary all the discipline to 
which the youth has been accustomed and which 
has kept him still a child is completely reversed. 
Here no surveillance, no humiliating restrictions 
are imposed upon, the young Levites, but the 
strong sense of the solemnity of their vocation, 
the promptings of honor, the obligations of duty, 
alone guide them in the right direction, and 
broaden and deepen their characters for the 



QUID RETRIBUAM. 67 

self-dependence of the years of future min- 
istry. 

Under such conditions the growing intellec- 
tuality of the youth, the intellectuality that 
awoke at the call of La Fontaine and the power- 
ful " Open Sesame " of the 'New Testament and 
that expanded in the magic atmosphere of logic 
and of natural science, now begins to burgeon in 
the rich soil of philosophy and the royal inspira- 
tions of the Psalms, which in after years he was 
wont to call " the bread of life." 

At this period too, by rhythmic transition 
and in the mysterious order of spiritual inspira- 
tion, the heavy burden of the sorrows of human- 
ity begins to press upon his youthful spirit and a 
great devotion to the Passion of the Master to 
absorb and possess his faculties. Now his har- 
monious voice intones the sweet, sad wailiugs of 
the " Stabat Mater." Upon the maturing spirit 
of the youth of Lavaudieu, the deep woes of the 
children of Adam press with a weight that 
amounts almost to suffocation. The great sob of 
the human rings mournfully through his soul ; 
but all the sadness and j^earning sympathy of the 
boy is gathered by his worshiping voice and ut- 



68 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

tered in the sublime sorrow of the hymn to the 
desolate Mother. 

As gradually as some delicate fabric absorbs 
the perfume of the musk until its entire substance 
is permeated with rich odor, so the impression- 
able nature of the son of Simon and Marie Yally 
receives from the noble environment of Le Puy 
and the still more subtle atmosphere of grace, 
an ever deepening sense of the mission of Holy 
Orders. As one by one, whefi night is fair, the 
planets show their royal beauty, so, one by one, 
to the clearing inner vision of the boy, the glor- 
ies of the Seven Mighty Sacraments are revealed. 
The Sacraments ! strong thuribles of grace into 
whose divine fires the priest must dip his 
anointed hand and touch with flame the Christian 
soul, even as the seraph touched Isaiah's lips 
and the spirit shall behold the wonders of in- 
finite power and beauty. 

But no sign of the interior shadow is mani- 
fested at this time in the demeanor of the youth. 
In his words and actions the sunlight always 
plays. At the seminary as in the preparatory 
college of La Chartreuse, Louis Yally is endeared 
to all by his ardent, cheerful nature, — a nature 



QUID RETRIBUAM. 69 

gradually expanding like that of the youth of 
Kazareth, with broadening sympathy for all 
mankind, — but to three of his fellow students an 
especial affection is given and thereby the foun- 
dations laid of the deepest and most enduring 
friendship of his life. 

The students in question were Florimond 
Blanc, M. Chevalier, and M. de Mourenger, af- 
terward pastors respectively of the Wolf River 
district, of Biloxi, and of Bay St. Louis in the 
State of Mississippi. From the deep devotion, 
the superb faith of de Mourenger, Louis Yally 
drew much strength and inspiration. So pro- 
found was the impression that the spirituality of 
the youth in question made upon the lad of 
Lavaudieu, that the latter frequently related 
during his years of ministry, how, one day, when 
the seminarians were preparing to enter the con- 
fessional he, Louis, said to de Mourenger : — 

" Give me the weeds you throw out of your 
garden." This heroic boy bred in the luxurious 
atmosphere of a French Chateau, left the bril- 
liant coteries of his native land to become an 
exile amid the unknown wilderness of America. 
Dreary and filled with the insidious germs of 



70 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

malaria were the vast swamps that spread their 
gray-green pall about the region of Wolf Eiver. 
From horizon to horizon the dull melancholy 
landscape rolled its vast desolation, while eerie 
mists hovered above the sluggish watercourses 
and writhed like tortured spirits in mute agony. 
Only the ceaseless monotone of the reeds ; only 
the lonely call of the marsh fowl ; the missionary 
stood face to face with Solitude. Eank mo- 
rasses, dangerous bogs, where marsh gases flick- 
ered like spirits of evil and Jack-o'-lanterns kept 
their horrid Walpurgis, intersected the entire 
region over which the gallant courier of the 
King plodded his dreary way to the inmates of 
the little log cabins, scattered here and there at 
great distances through the melancholy waste. 

Into the pages of history have passed the deeds 
of Pere Marquette, and of Pere Joliet, of Damian 
and the Prince Gallitzin ; but in the swamps and 
forests of Louisiana have been lived as great if 
unrecorded lives — lives that are written within 
the holy sagas of the universe. 

Second in the trio of students whose personal- 
ities had an abiding influence upon the life of 
Louis Yally was M. Chevalier. Of good though 



QUID RETRIBUAM. 71 

not of noble birth, this youth also dared the 
dangers and privations of the early days of Mis- 
sissippi, and planted beside the Mexican Sea, the 
mighty standard of the Cross. Often to his lit- 
tle vicarage where the musical monotone of 
Biloxi Bay could be heard from the wide veranda 
and the mighty pulses of the sea gave their 
rhythm to the human soul, the poet-priest, 
Abram Ryan, would come and weave perchance, 
some of the sweetest harmonies that live within 
his Southern songs. Two of these dauntless 
pioneers, the early friends of Louis Yally have 
passed from marsh and forest into the banquet 
chamber of the King ; the third. Rev. Florimond 
Blanc of Bay St. Louis, still serves his Master by 
the Southern Sea. Father Blanc's life and min- 
istry are too well known to require mention ; he 
lives and labors amid the love of his people, and 
merges their mutual tenderness into the all-en- 
compassing love of the Leader in whose steps it 
is his highest joy to tread. ^ 

And besides the three remarkable students 
whose strong personalities left an abiding impress 

^ Rev. Florimond Blanc died June 13, 1903, after a brief ill- 



72 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

upon the character of our young seminarian, there 
came into the life of Louis Yally at that period 
another virile influence — namely the noble spirit 
and teaching of a venerable member of the 
faculty. To a brilliant intellect that dwelt as in 
its native home amid the dazzling labyrinths of 
the higher metaphysics, the child-hearted pro- 
fessor united the humility of a Francis de Sales 
and the simplicity of an Aloysius. Like all who 
enter into that inner sanctuary of thought where 
intellectual truth and true mental illumination 
are found, the aged philosopher was made 
humble because he stood perpetually in the sub- 
lime presence of Wisdom. Like the convex 
mirrors of deft workmanship they make in 
Yenice, is the crystal of the intellectual life; all 
who look therein behold their own image dimin- 
ished a hundred fold. And so it is that the great 
©f all ages — the seer and the prophet, the artist 
and the poet, are men who have become in 
heart even as the little ones of the Lord. 
On the Tabors of human thought the attitude 
is prostration. *' Unless ye become as little 
children, ye shall not enter the Kingdom of 
Heaven." 



QUID RETRIBUAM. 73 

Tradition says that the venerable Doctor of 
whom we have spoken, though well illumined 
from within, had defective human sight, and a 
memory that often played him false. Contrary 
to the usual custom in Le Puy, the professor was 
in the habit of using his notes for the exhorta- 
tion it was his wont to give to the faculty and 
students while at their evening meal. With 
thoughtless ingenuity some mischievous semina- 
rians of which young Louis was doubtless one, 
placed the light upon the rostrum in such a posi- 
tion as to throw the notes of the unsuspecting 
Doctor completely in the shadow. When the 
crucial moment came, the grace being said, the 
old professor was seen to hesitate to begin the 
usual address. Sharp and clear sounded the bell 
of the Superior, an imperative signal that the 
Doctor should commence. Still the old man 
hesitated ; then — his venerable head falling 
slightly upon his breast, amid the amazement of 
the faculty and the ill-concealed mirth of the 
students, he silently descended the rostrum and 
pacing the long length of the aisle between the 
tables from which all eyes were riveted upon 
him, with the humility of a John Berchmans, the 



T4 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

old man spoke : " Eev. Father Superior, I can- 
not see my notes." 

" Father," replies the edified Superior, in a 
voice that trembled with emotion, "what you 
would have told us you have preached by your 
example ! " Long after the saintly philosopher 
had passed into the higher seminary of the 
Supreme Metaphysician, Louis Yally was wont 
to relate the above incident which powerfully 
augmented the childlike sympathy, for which he 
was so remarkable in his later years. 

From the classic atmosphere of the academic 
halls, the young Yally would return when sum- 
mer brought the long vacation, to the homely 
shelter of his parents' roof, and the emerald 
vineyards of Lavaudieu. His heart, fired with 
the mighty hopes that burned within him, his 
intellect thrilled with the inspirations of meta- 
physics, the young seminarian loses none of his 
love of the old environment, but the earth 
mother received him back into her arms, and 
he returns her caresses with a maturer and more 
responsive delight. JSTo longer clad in his peas- 
ant garb but wearing the simple habit of the 
seminarian. Simon and Marie are filled with 



QUID RETRIBUAM. Y5 

honest pride as they behold their boy now, 
indeed robed in some of the vesture of the 
glorious priesthood ; and the heart of the young 
Louis is exalted and thrilled because of their 
tender and self-sacrificing devotion. So absorbed 
is the mind and soul of Simon Tally in the noble 
destiny of his youngest child, that with a spirit 
of abnegation worthy of an Ignatius he leaves 
his little vineyard, the vineyard that has curled 
its tendrils around his heart, bids adieu to his 
beloved wife and his fireside and accepts the 
position of econome for a wealthy landowner in 
order once more, that his boy may become a 
worthy econome in the vineyard of the King. 
The care of his own little domain is left to his 
elder son, and Louis, now grown stronger in con- 
stitution, treads the wine-press in company with 
his brother during the vacations, even as in after 
years he will tread the wine-press of Apostolic 
labor side by side with the Elder Brother of all 
mankind. 

Besides the beloved out-of-door tasks, when 
the rich grape odor steals about his heart and 
the song of the bird into his spirit, Louis loves 
to aid in the homely duties of the household and 



T6 FOR THE HOXOR OF THE KIXG. 

to minister to each of its inmates, but especially 
to the old Grandmere, who was rapidly descend- 
ing the sunlit evening slopes of a beautiful and 
noble life. 

Silently as drift the snowy clouds and melt 
into the infinite, so the white days of the vaca- 
tion pass ; days when the golden summer kindles 
a nimbus above the fields, and when approach- 
ing autumn, breathing on the harvest, makes the 
answering vineyards set a thousand amethysts 
on the malachite of the fretted leaves. 

Before returning to the seminary however, 
Louis would spend fruitful hours with the vener- 
able village cure; hours of soul, communion — 
more — hours replete w^ith virile suggestion, and 
with spiritual illumination. 

Soon the fragrant summer passed, the Yallys' 
son finds himself once more within the halls of 
Le Puy. It is the third term of his residence 
within the University. Deeper and deeper the 
student drinks of the well of theology, and more 
and more he becomes imbued with the vastness 
of that science. 

Thus far the current of the scholastic year 
runs peacefully, flashing its silver waters in the 



QUID RETKIBUAM. YY 

serene light of Truth. As yet no ripple of 
human unrest, no struggle of the spirit clouds 
its surface, but not thus undisturbed is it des- 
tined to reach the ocean of the Past. Even now 
a crisis is at hand. Across the moral conscious- 
ness of the youth no premonition of the impend- 
ing change has cast a shadow. Within his spirit 
all is still ; and thus it will ever be. The great 
soul events are noiseless ; and Revelation shrouds 
her face like a seraph in her wings. All supreme 
lights are still ; all vital moments, calm. God 
works noiselessly in His universe, noiselessl}^ in 
ISTature and the human soul. Birth and death 
have silent footsteps. Inspiration is velvet shod. 
It is with spiritual, as with physical light; one 
law is made manifest in both ; both are silent ; 
both flash a mute and sudden splendor. 

There came one evening to the college halls, 
one whose name is known in many lands, and 
whose name is loved wherever known. Right 
Rev. AYilliam Henry Elder, Archbishop of Cin- 
cinnati, then Bishop of Natchez, Mississippi ; and 
in his presence the faculty and students at once 
recognized the true and tried Ambassador of the 
King. Across a mighty waste of waters, from a 



78 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

land desolate with the new desolation of Civil 
War; from a land weeping over the Conquered 
Banner, and the countless graves of her heroic 
sons, has journeyed the noble prelate on the 
nobler mission of obtaining recruits for his little 
band of clergy decimated, impoverished, by the 
awful hand of battle. Unutterable anguish had 
rebaptized his spirit, and any heart less dauntless 
than that of the indomitable Bishop, would have 
faltered before the difficult quest and the supreme 
sacrifice that must be exacted from the heroic 
men, who would follow him to the land of exile 
and of tears. Even the fearless spirit of the 
Mississippi prelate seemed about to fail him 
when in the great capital enroute for Le Buy ; 
but his flagging energies were renewed by the 
suggestion of a noble woman of Baris. " Mon- 
seigneur," said the pious dame, handing him a 
tiny image, " take the statue of St. Joseph ; ask 
him to aid you in obtaining priests for your for- 
eign mission ; he has never failed me, he will not 
fail you." 

Touched beyond measure by the sublime faith 
of the donor, the tears sprang to the eyes of the 
Bishop. Gratefully receiving the statue he re- 



QUID RETRIBUAM. T9 

plied : " I will, indeed, do as you advise, my 
daughter." And the Great Prime Minister of 
the King and Chief Steward of the royal reve- 
nues, turned a willing ear to the petition of his 
Sovereign's ambassador, and gave him from the 
noble France that had already sent forth Mar- 
quette, Druillettes, Jogues, Joliet and many 
others, four dauntless recruits whose life and 
labors have written some of the sublimest pas- 
sages in the records of missionary work in 
America. 

And on that memorable evening at Le Puy, 
while the sweet odors of the night flowers were 
borne upon the air and the very atmosphere 
seemed permeated with a deep peace, the Pente- 
costal spirit was moving apace and soon His 
lightning-like presence was to kindle an undy- 
ing fire in the souls of three students of His 
predilection. It is in the refectory of the Semi- 
nary, and the hour of the evening meal. With 
grave and gentle voice the foreign Bishop speaks 
to the assembled youths. But a few subdued 
words have passed his lips, yet the earnest atten- 
tion of the students is accorded him. Not a stu- 
dent stirs ; not a sound is made within the great 



80 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

refectory. So deep the silence that the clear, 
plaintive call of the night-bird falls upon the ear 
with startling distinctness. With rapt faculties 
professors and students follow the wonderful 
story — the terrible drama of real life that has 
been enacted beyond the Atlantic. The prelate 
tells of his land where every household has its 
new made grave, where God's white altar stands 
desolate ; where the Mass bell is hushed ; where 
the dying pass unshriven ; where the footfalls of 
desolation are heard upon the wilderness and the 
spirit of the South lays her beautiful, hopeless 
brow upon the soil and weeps her tears of blood. 
'Now comes the call for aid. The strong moon- 
light begins to creep within the casement and 
the forehead of the pleading Bishop seems 
anointed from on high. The young Tally, whose 
duty it is to serve at table this evening according 
to the custom of the Seminar}^, stands riveted 
upon the spot where the broad beam shines 
brightest. The low, earnest voice of Monsei- 
gneur Elder, flows on, infusing his deep enthu- 
siasm, his profound sympathy, his measureless 
love of suffering humanity into the hearts of 
every one present. The touching appeal con- 



QUID RETRIBUAM. 81 

tinues — reaches its climax in the question : " My 
sons, who among you will follow me ? " 

Burning with high enthusiasm and strong re- 
solve ; called by the same voice that spoke to the 
Twelve, to Saul of Tarsus and to Father Damian, 
three youths step forward and in doing so make 
the supreme oblation of their lives. The Pente- 
costal fire burns within them and a sudden power 
forms their youthful frames glorifying them for 
the nonce, into the statue of the perfect Man — 
into the image and likeness of the Eternal Proto- 
type. "We v;ill follow you, my Lord, wherever 
3^ou may lead us." 

Still the youthful server of the evening looks 
on in silence, but a swift flush stains his cheek 
as his spirit pays tribute to the superb sacrifice 
made by his three companions. As yet no kin- 
dred inspiration comes to him; no voice from 
the alien wilderness calls his name. The time is 
not yet ripe but the holy hour is near at hand. 

It is now the third day after the momentous 
evening and the American Bishop is about to de- 
part from the Seminary with his three recruits. 
In the still brilh'ant noon Louis Yally walks 
slowly down a silent corridor of the college a 



82 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

pocket Testament open at the Psalms within his 
hand. But not upon the sublime invocations 
does the mind of our Levite dwell. The spirit 
of the boy is bathed in the radiance of the sun- 
light and with the joyous nonchalance of youth 
he is humming sotto voce, an old chanson of the 
provinces — a ballade of home and vineyard, of 
flocks and fields. But the supreme moment has 
arrived. Glancing casually downward with in- 
tent to close the book, the mighty words, all 
power and flame of the ninety-sixth Psalm rise 
like the fiery sword of the cherubim upon his 
sight, barring him from the eden of the old 
peaceful life, thrusting him into the outer wil- 
derness. 

" Give unto the Lord the glory due unto His 
name, bring an offering and come into His 
courts." 

Instantaneously and as a lightning flash from 
the heavens, their awful import, their supreme 
obligation is revealed to him. Through the calm 
of the noon a voice is speaking and the soul of 
the student questions: "Quid retribuam? quid 
retribuam ? '- And the mystic Yoice makes an- 
swer : — " Go thou, likewise into the wilderness." 



QUID RETRIBUAM. 83 

As though an electric current thrilled through 
his being, the whole nature of the youth grows 
luminous with high resolve. 

Scarcely a moment has passed since the last 
note of the chanson fell upon the silence, but that 
moment has transformed the youth into the man, 
the student into the apostle. And led by the 
strong compulsion of the spirit, Louis Tally, with 
the promptness that characterized every vital ac- 
tion of his life goes directly to the reverend 
prelate and in a voice husky with emotion, but 
tense with an unalterable purpose, exclaims: — 

"I offer myself for the foreign missions, my 
lord ; I will follow you through life unto death ! " 

Filled with amazement and admiration, the 
great tears spring to the eyes of the American 
Bishop, and with the impulse of the father, and 
the instinct of the shepherd. Bishop Elder throws 
his arms about the youth and gathers him into 
his close embrace. 

And to the spirit of each speaks the Supreme 
Spirit: "Ask of Me, and I shall give thee the 
heathen for thine inheritance, and the uttermost 
parts of the earth for thy possession." 



CHAPTEE Y 

THE LEVITE 

As in the musical sonata the notes of depres- 
sion accentuate, interpolate and prepare the way 
for the high notes of elation and jubilee ; as the 
solemn bass of the organ rolls its rhythmic moan 
between the treble chords of clarion-like exulta- 
tion; so, in that wondrous instrument, the 
human spirit, the high emotions that swell the 
grand crescendo of self-sacrifice, fade and are lost, 
for the nonce, in the plaintive diminuendo of 
human foreboding, uncertainty and nameless 
fear. It is our heritage from Adam, the birth- 
mark of the sons of men, the brand burned by 
primal evil upon the race. Somewhere in the 
dust, the strongest spirit hides its feet of clay ; 
but the vital breath of God plays ceaselessly upon 
them, and immortal wings are bred within the 
stone. 

When the presence of the great American 
Bishop was withdrawn, and his fine enthusiasm 

84 



THE LEVITE. 85 

no longer a sacred fire from which to draw the 
living flame of the mighty spirit of renunciation, 
the high exultation, the eager desire of the youth 
of Lavaudieu for the unknown labors of the mis- 
sionary life begins to ebb slowly, almost imper- 
ceptibly, leaving the young heart of him torn 
and sorrowful with the sorrow known only to 
those fine natures capable of supreme generosity 
and of measureless suffering. Great emotions, 
like the ocean, leave their flotsam and jetsam on 
the spirit. In this, the dreary day of mental re- 
action, a vague regret for his hasty offer to the 
foreign prelate, a supreme yearning for kindred 
and for home, an intangible dread of the myste- 
rious future, of the vast, unknown shores upon 
which he must walk alone, the strong yearning 
of youth for life and light and the joy of living, 
— the familiar places, the accustomed paths — de- 
presses his spirit and sensibly affects the buoy- 
ancy of his nature. A mighty dread of, he 
knows not what, rises like a titanic spectre and 
wreathes its bony arms about him, pressing him 
in its horrid embrace until the heart of him 
stands still and the clammy perspiration comes in 
beads upon his brow. It is the soul's recoil, the 



86 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

dull and drear reaction after the fervor of the 
sacrifice when all that renunciation involves set- 
tles its leaden weight upon the heart, that tests 
the fibre of the hero's spirit in church or cabinet, 
in the camps or on the Eialtos of the world. 
And from Abraham to Father Damian, from the 
Mother of the Maccabees to Catherine Mac-Auley, 
it is the daily, living sacrifice, not the first obla- 
tion, that proves the saint and wins the victory. 

Slowly passed the days with the son of the 
Yallys — an eternity of feverish expectation of 
the letter from the prelate to whom he had of- 
fered allegiance (for the discreet Bishop had 
deferred his answer to our student), the message 
that would decide his career and accept or reject 
him for the far off mission. Small wonder that 
the youth grows pale from the inward conflict 
and that upon his physical frame are impressed 
the ravages of the mental struggle. An inde- 
finable, but evident change steals over him as a 
light mist veils a landscape, refining and glorify- 
ing its familiar features. A gentle dignity in- 
forms his nature, a deeper tenderness and a more 
marked reserve ; as though the tortured spirit, in 
its stern travail, withdrew into its inner sanctu- 



THE LEVITE. 87 

aries. Students and professors, alike, become 
conscious of this. With something akin to 
reverence they look upon the youth ; with an 
almost feminine gentleness they give him the 
accustomed greetings. It is the universal re- 
sponse of truth to truth, of nobility to nobility. 
Deep in the farthest chamber of the human 
spirit, the fine, electric spark of potential Truth 
lies sleeping ; anon, in supreme issues, it flashes 
forth to meet and mingle with the kindred spark 
in the heart of another. The great soul of 
humanity, like a vast, seolian harp, must ever 
respond to the breath of the Word. 

To Louis Tally, keenly conscious of the altered 
demeanor of his companions, comes another crisis 
which, like a second baptism, regenerates and 
stimulates his drooping spirit. 

One golden day while the woods are full of 
song and the sweet bird psaltery steals through 
the open windows of the college chapel, the son 
of Simon and Marie utters the tremendous vow 
to which all nature seems to listen — all the uni- 
verse, to comprehend. Across the vast creation, 
emblazoned in living flame, glow the grace-white 
lilies of immortal Chastity, — Jehovah's holy 



88 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

" hall mark " on His work. By their pure reful- 
gence Genius lights her way to the fountain of 
uncreated wisdom ; in their life-giving radiance, 
Thought and Inspiration come to birth ; in their 
Promethean fire Love forges her celestial 
wings. 

And beside the shining seal of Chastity, the 
first of the Major orders burns its sublime stigma 
upon the soul of the boy of Lavaudieu. 

Still, the woodland voices chant their sweet ac- 
companiment and the words of the officiating 
priest sound clearly upon the silence of the 
chapel : — " Dear children^ as you are about to be 
promoted to the Holy Order of Suhdeaconship, 
you should attentively consider, again and again, 
what a burden you this day freely seelc. For as 
yet you are free ...if, however, you receive 
this Order, you will be no longer at liberty to re- 
trace your steps, but you will be obliged to serve 
God perpetually (to serve wltom is to reign) 
and to be forever bound to the service 
of the Church. Wherefore^ while there is yet time^ 
reflect, — now, if you wish to persevere in your 
holy resolution, in the name of God, come for- 
ward.''^ 



THE LEVITE. 89 

One solemn step toward the altar — a step from 
the lesser into the more abounding life — from the 
court of the gentiles to the court of the Levite. 
The mystic prostration follows, while the mighty 
words of the " Litany of All Saints " link with 
resistless invocations the spirit life of the universe, 
— world with world, soul with soul, earthly with 
celestial. It is the golden chain that binds the 
whole creation ; that links the seraph to the 
Christian babe, the strong archangels to the sons 
of men, the spirits wandering in the dim realms 
of probation, to the flashing Raphaels of uncre- 
ated joy. 

As the glorious aspirations fill the air, a thou- 
sand viewless wings seem — to the rapt soul of 
our Levite — to beat upon the morning, as though 
serried ranks of saints and seraphim were gath- 
ering from unimagined distances. And a thou- 
sand, thousand voices seem to mingle with the 
chant of the birds and the last note of the Agnus 
Dei. 

A light touch upon the shoulder from the Mas- 
ter of Ceremonies, recalls the young Subdeacon 
to his surroundings; and, with a motion of be- 
wilderment, as of one aroused suddenly from 



90 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KIXG. 

dreams, Louis Yally moves slowly to his place 
among his companions. 

An hour later, while the morning dews are still 
upon the grass, and the sacred dews of Holy Or- 
ders fresh upon his spirit, — for nature is smiling 
with eternal youth and the soul of the lad sings 
within him — the new made Levite is handed 
the letter from the American prelate. It is the 
long looked for message; will it hold the sum- 
mons? 

A swift pang stabs the heart of the shepherd 
of Ardeche. For a moment that seems an eter- 
nity, the old reluctance, the yearning for home 
and kindred, the shrinking from the unknown, 
surges over him and his trembling hands refuse 
to open the envelope. Eallying by a supreme 
effort, Louis hastily scans the contents of the let- 
ter. It is the fiat. But as though strong wine 
were poured upon his heart, seraphic fire lit 
within his spirit, the wavering, the doubt, the 
human yearning fall from him, as worn and dis- 
carded garments ; and glorious in the glorious 
hour, stands the Levite in the freedom of his 
blessed emancipation ! A second Pentecostal 
flame has touched his soul ; shadowy fears be- 



THE LEVITE. 91 

come luminous hopes ; doubt is transformed to 
faith, vacillation, to action. 

When Louis Yally meets his companions at the 
recreation hour, not one is insensible of the last 
and greatest change within the youth. The frag- 
ile, gentle student seems suddenly to have grown 
to manhood and a subtle power emanates from 
his presence. Great ideas make us greater ; they 
are spiritual new births ; and under the all com- 
pelling influence of his high resolve, the whole 
nature of the youth is gradually but perceptibly 
transformed. 

Scarcely has the summons from the Mississippi 
Bishop wrought the swift purification of the heart 
and will of our Levite when — going composedly 
to his desk — he indites a brief letter to Simon and 
Marie. Of the message in question we will speak 
more fully later on. E"o word of pleading must 
find place therein, for the well meaning, but mis- 
taken parents could not yet accept his hasty de- 
cision — a decision that will rend their very heart- 
strings. He must act, — act alone, act instantly. 
And so the message goes. 

But from the hour in which the momentous 
letter is mailed, the sunny smile of the boy be- 



92 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

comes graver, and his voice that night in the col- 
lege chant interprets more tenderly than before, 
the measureless sorrow of the Miserere. 

Not unlike a sweet though mournful dream, are 
the last few days at the Seminary ; a dream of 
love and tears, of parting and eager anticipation, 
of friendship, — the strong bondage thereof he 
will always own, of lessons graven deeply upon 
his soul, of classic scenes silhouetted forever upon 
his memory. Through the stately halls of Le 
Puy a genuine sorrow is felt by students and 
professors because of the approaching departure 
of the young missionary, — inconspicuous, unos- 
tentatious, but gentle ever, — a life always radi- 
ating, always drawing love. 

Soon came the fair, swift journey to Paris 
through the beautiful, blooming provinces. Then, 
the reunion with his comrades, M. Blanc, Chev- 
alier and de Mourenger, the grave and kindly 
prelate, and the awful presence of the great 
city. 

For the first time the child of nature dwells 
within the fetid heart of a mighty metropolis. 
All the putrid life beats its unclean waves upon 
his soul, so deeply does the nature of the future 



THE LEVITE. 93 

missionary sympathize with the terrible need, the 
hideous spiritual desolation around him ; — the 
mighty life of the countless multitude ; the eternal 
tramp of its bleeding feet ; the wretched voice of 
its feverish activity, the fiendish misery of the 
streets, the gilded pollution of its noblest boule- 
vards, the terrible dirge of humanity — dirge of 
hope and peace — that rolls its monotone through 
the traffic and toil, the gaiety and license, the 
doom and death and nameless misery of the people. 

One by one, as the earnest seeker lives his life, 
are rent the veils that hide the sacred fountains 
of wisdom and of strength. Step by step, the 
hand of unsought but preordained experience, 
leads the spirit unto the Holy of Holies where 
peace and purpose, calm and power anoint it to 
fruitful activity. The fragrant breath of the vir- 
gin spring imparts a lesson to the soul ; the 
fields of unpolluted snow lay bare sweet gospels ; 
and in the great centres of so called civilization, 
the leprous fingers of human society draw back 
the veils from God's mighty' revelations for 
whoso can read the hieroglyphs Avithin. 

Thrown for the first time into the midst of 
surging multitudes, far from the sheltering walls 



94 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

of the Seminary, the very earth seems to fall 
away from the feet of our Levite and his spirit 
to wander amid chaos. But when Louis Yally 
leaves the glittering capital, a new and perma- 
nent strength has entered into his nature. 

With the white heat of enthusiasm kindling 
his faculties, focusing his thoughts like a great 
search-light upon the one glowing goal, — help 
for some individuals of the social order ; cherish- 
ing with hourly increasing zeal the customs and 
traditions of the Seminary, the announcement 
that the beloved cassock must be abandoned for 
citizen's dress, came as an unexpected and un- 
gracious trial. Though advancing steadily in 
the wisdom of the Master, our Levite still clings 
to symbols with the impetuosity of youth, nor 
yet fully realizes that abstract truth and right 
and worth will preach their high evangels in 
whatever garb expediency may clothe them. 
At this initial stage, as throughout the whole 
momentous journey which formed so crucial a 
period in the life of the shepherd of Lavaudieu, 
the fatherly council and pure philosophy of the 
Bishop of Mississippi, were an unfailing guide 
and consolation. 



THE LEVITE. 95 

To all refined and sensitive spirits, to all minds 
that have separated the real from the shadow, 
the gold of life from the dross thereof, trials of a 
momentary nature, difficulties of financial char- 
acter, bring keen and peculiar suffering ; and to 
Louis the problem of securing the necessary 
means for his passage to America, falls like a 
sudden frost upon his burning hopes. To ask 
aid of his parents is impossible. In the storm of 
sorrow and resentment with which he had reason 
to believe his sudden resolution would be greeted 
at home, no possible hearing would be given to 
his plea for assistance. But in the emergency, 
the abiding faith in the aid of Providence, the 
royal power and " right of way " of the brave and 
the true that was ever afterward a fundamental 
characteristic of his nature, asserted itself ; and 
the spirit of the Levite falters not, though the 
heart of him is profoundly sad. ISTor does his 
simple confidence deceive him ; for ever in God's 
universe hope is power, and faith, possession. 
So gently, that the manly nature of Louis could 
know no dishonor in its acceptance, his noble 
comrades in renunciation come forward and, 
uniting their funds, enable the youth of Ardeche 



96 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

to make the passage of the sea, — to consummate 
his heroic sacrifice. In after years when the 
material debt had been paid to those beloved 
comrades, the golden debt of affectionate grati- 
tude remained a cherished bond upon the soul of 
the son of Lavaudieu. 

Out from the din and depression, from the 
clamor and cloud of the fair and terrible city, 
the beautiful sepulchre where riot guards and 
ruin dwells, into the free, pure air of the open 
country, our missionaries speed in company with 
the foreign Bishop. As the train plunges into 
the fresh heart of the smiling provinces, the 
oppressed spirit of our Levite revives. Again, 
the great soul of nature folds the youth unto her 
bosom, the calm gospels of the trees, the sublime 
message of the mountains, the cool breath of the 
rippling streams. A soft, unutterable joy suffuses 
his being, for joy is the greatest of all things ; 
and somewhere, in the midst of the darkest hour, 
the most dreaded trial, joy must give its kiss to 
the spirit that is true. 

With hearts rejuvenated and made stronger, 
our exiles enter the ancient city of Havre. The 
majesty of the great docks leaves its impress 



THE LEVITE. 97 

upon the minds of the young seminarians. 
There, Commerce makes her mighty throne, and 
Trade clasps her girdle around the world. 

One last, strange day in France when a thou- 
sand emotions succeed each other in the heart of 
our Levite, where, like the sunset beyond the 
quay, the lights and shadows alternate their 
gleam and gloom, in infinite succession. 

France ! the mother of a thousand heroes and 
the martyred parent of misguided sons ! ^Nation 
made by saint and sage, and marred by sense 
and sinner. A dying Titaness strangling in her 
blood. 

And after the day, the evening comes, and the 
silent mists draw their veils over land and sea. 



^ 



CHAPTEE YI 

II^TERMEZZO 

Dawn unfolds like a rose upon the east, shed- 
ding a faint blush upon quay and ocean, kindling 
a glory upon the roofs and spires of the ancient 
city of Havre and flushing the masts of the 
sleeping craft that lie motionless within the har- 
bor. As the blush of day crimsons upon land 
and sea, the dull roar of commerce arises from 
the quay, deepening, gathering strength each 
moment, answering the endless sob of the Atlan- 
tic with the endless sob of the children of men — • 
heirs of the travail of civilization. 

The noble steamer chafes at her moorings and 
the restless figurehead seems impatient to keep 
her tryst with the far off harbor of the Western 
world. Every pant of the huge engine, now 
making steam for the outward voyage, sends a 
quiver through the giant sinews of the ocean 
queen and through the tingling nerves of the son 
of Lavaudieu, who stands silently upon deck, 

98 



INTERMEZZO. 99 

absorbed by the mournful majesty of the scene. 
In company with the Bishop of Mississippi and 
his three companions of the Seminary, Louis 
Yally has passed the night on board — a night of 
fitful sleep and of feverish and depressing 
dreams. The inexperienced travelers were un- 
accustomed to the shrill whistle of the engineer 
and the demons of unrest and nostalgia seemed 
to weave a horrid spell above their pillows. To 
the pleasure seeker, about to leave his native 
country for the first time, if only for a few 
months' dalliance amid the historic places of a 
foreign land, there comes, at the moment of 
embarking, a deep melancholy that gathers 
like a mighty shadow and slowly wraps both 
soul and heart in gloom. The voices of country 
and of the fireside call softly to his spirit ; the 
very soil seems to stretch caressing arms to- 
ward him — arms whose sweet endearments he 
must put from him firmly, but oh ! how tenderly. 
To the son of France, this deep love of the soil 
has become a part of his inmost nature. Go 
where he will, always the voice of France is 
calling; always, the phantom fleurs-de-lis are 
blooming above the alien banners of the world. 



i^'ii'i 0. 



100 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

And if that child of France be likewise an exile, 
though a voluntary one ; and if to the sense of 
exile be added the stern forebodings, the un- 
known terrors of the life of the missionary ; 
then the parting with his native shores becomes 
a triple agony which only the heart of the Man 
of Sorrow can measure or can comprehend. 

Every moment — with the broadening day — the 
din and bustle of the wharf grows more tumultu- 
ous ; the haggard lips of Commerce utter cease- 
less discordant shrieks ; the ghoulish heart of 
Civilization beats its wild measure for the frantic 
toil of men. Anon, on the quay, stands a naked 
human heart upon which the grief of parting 
with some beloved one has stamped the royal 
heraldry of tears. To such a heart some droop- 
ing heart and head on shipboard give mute but 
vivid answer. But deeper depths may human 
anguish sound, — depths measureless as the un- 
fathomed core of ocean. And on the decks of 
many ships, as on the steamer where stand our 
exiles, are voyageurs whose hearts can touch no 
answering heart — hearts denied the sacred grief 
of parting, hearts that, in some holy cause, have 
broken the living tendrils of affection and their 



INTERMEZZO. 101 

life-blood flows upon the soul. Denied even the 
mournful privilege of farewell to his dear ones, 
is the heart of Louis Yaliy ; and dwelling apart 
in its solitude of woe, the tortured spirit is but 
dimly conscious of the magnificent pamorama 
upon every side. Around him is the epitome of 
the world. Craft from every land ; pennons of 
every nation. Barks from the frozen North, 
from the far South seas, from the fragrant 
Orient, from the great Americas. One by one, 
while the morning rose unfolds and the crimson 
stain grows deeper in the harbor, the vessels 
spread their mighty wings and, like giant birds, 
move majestically through the blushing waters 
in endless, mute succession toward the bar. One 
by one, the crafts are caught by the eager sea 
and hidden in its immensity — dissolved like 
shadows in the infinite. But the pathos, the 
deep tragedy of the scene sinks into the spirit of 
Simon Tally's son, although his physical vision 
seems unconscious of its spell. And the sharp 
and swift realization of its significance falls like 
a blow upon his heart and brain, as a sudden 
lurch of the vessel, newly loosed from her moor- 
ings, arouses our Levite to the keen perception of 



102 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

his environment. Tremendous energies are at 
work around him — powers of spirit, of nature, 
and of will. And above all and through all, 
comes the solemn chant of the open sea. The 
glorious vision lies heavily upon the soul of the 
youth ; and the infinite misery and infinite need 
of the great, blind world on shore, speaks a 
message to his breaking heart. What matters 
individual suffering, when such universal an- 
guish is clamoring for relief ? What matters 
individual sacrifice, when countless hecatombs of 
men are being tortured to the death in the sac- 
rificial fires of Mammon ? What matters any- 
thing, but that rescue should come to these pant- 
ing, haggard millions — here and everywhere ? 
What matters anything but Salvation ? And 
the voice of the ocean seems to repeat the mighty 
word : — Salvation. 

Slowly, silently, like a ship in a dream, the vessel 
glides between the avenue of craft that lines the 
harbor. The motley multitude upon the quay 
shrinks in size until it seems composed of the 
people of Lilliput. One by one, the discordant 
noises of civilization are lost in the deepening roar 
of the ocean. Suddenly, across the shimmering 



INTERMEZZO. 103 

waters upon which the first sun-ray has traced a 
regal pathway, come the faint notes of the 
morning Angelus ! 

The rose in the heavens scatters its petals over 
the radiant East ; all the nearer waters are 
fleeted with phantom petals. Fainter and fainter 
grows the distant shore — now, like an iridescent 
ribbon ; now, fading to soft pearl, now, — hark ! 
an exulting breaker shouts unto the ship, raising 
its Gorgon-like head on high, hurling its writh- 
ing foam serpents into the air. The mighty 
challenge rolls on deck ; the ocean claims the 
gallant vessel, and France becomes a dear and 
mournful memory. Gray sea-birds gather around 
the mast, the green waters curdle into sparkling 
spray, and from the hearts of the exiles and 
from the heart of the ocean, deep answers unto 
deep, immensity unto immensity. 

Let the soul that would learn the sublimest 
lesson of the universe, the soul that would thrill 
with vivid inspiration, and would drink at the 
living fountains of thought, seek the mountains 
or the open sea. There, its double kinship to 
the Maker and His works will be keenly realized ; 
there his oneness with the universe will fire his 



104 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

faculties with holy energy, will deepen and 
glorify the powers of brain and spirit. The 
same enthusiasm that bids the lark spring 
upward to the dawn, that evokes the moonlit 
rhapsodies of the mocking-bird, and weaves the 
ecstasy of the nightingale upon the rose ; that 
makes the seed give birth within the sod and the 
plant to grow beneath the sun, steals with vital 
power through the human faculties from the 
sublime solitudes of the physical world, and 
causes them to germinate and blossom and bear 
eternal fruit. The soul that has known the 
sea is glorified and exalted for all future 
time. 

By Louis Tally, keenly alive from earliest 
childhood to the subtle influence of nature, the 
power of the ocean is felt with more than 
common force. There are moments of fine 
enthusiasm when the pulses of his being beat 
in rhythm with the great heart of the deep. 
There are moments of exaltation, of power, of 
insight, when the strength of the sea enters into 
his veins and pours the strong wine of spiritual 
vitality upon his thirsting heart. There are 
radiant mornings when the dawn opens one by 



INTERMEZZO. 105 

one its beaming gates of gold and opal, of rose 
and chrysoprase and amethyst, and all the sea 
is flecked with living gems cast by the largess 
of the King. There are wonderful evenings 
when the glories of the New Jerusalem kindle 
on the waves, and the evening star, bright 
herald of the moon, unrolls a golden carpet on 
the deep that the Queen of Mght may tread 
thereon. JSTovv, out of her glittering palace in 
the sea the Silver Sovereign ascends, thrilling 
the atmosphere with rapturous light, kindling 
wide, iridescent glory upon the ocean, kindling 
a light within the spirits of our exiles, a light 
that is clothed with melody and finds expression 
in the hymn of the Salve Kegina. 

Far out upon the infinite silence, upon the 
glorious night, floats the musical voice of the 
child of Lavaudieu. Something of the strength 
of the sea steals into it, something of the exulta- 
tion of the wonderful hour ; his companions listen 
spellbound ; the youth has never sung like this. 
Truly, he has never done so. For, since the last 
song in the Seminary of Le Puy, and the first 
song upon the royal sea, the nature of the lad 
has deepened, and far upon the path of spiritual 



106 FOR THE HOXOR OF THE KING. 

insight the Levite has been led by the power of 
the mysterious deep. 

But in the law of spiritual and of intellectual 
progress, as in the law of physical growth, ret- 
rogression must be e^er a factor. It is the 
dicta of the universe from which there is no 
appeal. Between mountain peak and mountain 
peak the valleys must intervene; between the 
regal crests of the waves of ocean, the deep 
hollows must be plowed. Between the Tabors 
of vision the prophet must descend into Geth- 
semane, between the Sinais of Kevelation, the 
soul must dwell in the Gorge of Desolation. 

And to Louis Tally come the days of gloom 
and despondency, when the sullen sea reflects his 
soul's depression. Over the angry waste of 
waters his sorrowful spirit wanders to his home 
at Lavaudieu, the home made desolate by his 
desertion and by his seeming ingratitude to its 
inmates. At other times, on the strong wings 
of the winds, his soul rushes outward to that 
"Western World, and the mystery and anguish 
and awful need thereof rise up as evil genii and 
slay the heart within him. In such hours, more 
than any other, the kindly sympathy of the fa- 



INTERMEZZO. 107 

therlike prelate brings its healing unction, but 
there are moments when the straggling spirit 
seeks no human solace, but lives alone with the 
ocean and the ocean's King. 

All too slowly for the eager zeal of the young 
missionaries, yet too rapidly for the lovers of 
nature's high communion, pass the holy days 
upon the deep. From out of the immensity of 
waters a sacred peace ascends, lifting the soul of 
Louis Yally to nobler heights, even to the sun- 
kissed plateau where all is calm. True, the 
storms of ocean will return, and on the broader 
sea of human life the mighty hurricanes will lash 
the soul to nameless agony ; the waves of fear 
will beat upon the spirit, the breakers of unrest 
will bruise the exile's heart ; above all, the 
tempest of evil, the whirlpool of human in- 
fidelity, will lash his- soul relentlessly. But the 
strength that has come to the spirit of Louis 
Yally from the spirit of the strong Atlantic has 
made of his nature a sturdy battlement against 
which the fiercest seas will beat in vain. 

This last, great night upon the ocean the moon 
comes late unto the sea, but showers such an 
efl^ulgence thereon that the seraphim's hosannas 



108 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

seemed coined into radiance and to weave a 
symphony upon the deep ; every wave is a 
glittering canticle, every hollow, a silver psalm. 
Glory encompasses the world, and the deep, 
translucent heaven opens to its inmost recesses, 
world beyond world, star beyond star. It is a 
night of revelation, night of inspiration. Softly, 
upon the rapturous hour, fall the notes of the 
"Ave Maris Stella" — glory unto glory, light 
unto light. 

For the last time, the exiles sing upon the sea, 
and for a wonderful instant, the night, the glory 
and the vessel are hidden from them. On the 
wings of melody they are lifted to the great 
realm of spirit (the home of the exile, the home 
of the soul) that interpenetrates and vivifies all 
things. Once more the voice of Louis Yally 
steals over the sea ; now, — the shrill call of the 
watchman aloft : — 

"Land ho! Land ho ! " 

The bluff tones of the captain are heard close 
by:- 

" Look messieurs," pointing to a dim line that 
shows like a cloud upon the western horizon, 
" we shall be in port at sunrise." 



PART II 

" Faith steps out on seemiDg void, 
And finds the solid rock.'' 



CHAPTER YII 

THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS 

The morning star floats like a seraph upon the 
awakening East, as the myriad lights of New 
York harbor arise in slow succession from the 
sea. The lights twinkle like fireflies against the 
spectral background of the sky throwing out 
tangled threads of luminance upon the water, but 
above them the star shines calmly on. The 
spirits of the young missionaries kindle as the 
morning mists withdraw their veils from the 
superb tableau of the American metropolis, re- 
vealing its glittering majesty to their eager vi- 
sion. Nova terra ! land of a royal line of intrepid 
apostles, Land of Columbus, Land of "Washing- 
ton ! Something of the magnitude, the power, 
the significance of this collossal Republic comes 
to birth within the soul of each of the exiles. 
Nova terra ! repeat the hearts of the dauntless 
quartette ; the old life has fallen from them, the 
friends most dear, the familiar scenes, the be- 

III 



112 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

loved firesides. Nova terra ! echoes the intellect 
of the Levites ; — land of civil and religious lib- 
erty, land of glorious possibilities. Nova terra ! 
reechoes the spirits of the exiles ; — land of un- 
known labors, of strenuous struggles, of supreme 
triumphs ! ISTova terra ! nova terra ! 

But all the while, their lips are silent, and not 
a word is uttered as the young seminarians, sur- 
rounding jVIonseigneur Elder, pass over the huge 
gangway and step upon American soil. 

Upon the crowded quay the heart-beats of our 
mighty civilization are almost audible ; but in 
other scenes than this before them are the lives 
of our missionaries to be passed. Away from 
the great metropolis, beyond the vast prairies, 
beyond the forest primeval, southward and still 
southward, past the Father of Waters, the 
mighty Mississippi, in the region where imme- 
morial pines chant their eternal dirges to the 
Mexican Sea, will these eager sons of France 
plant the standard of the King. Avoiding all 
unnecessary delay, our party hastens to Balti- 
more, through golden grain fields where Ruth 
might have gleaned and a Boaz loved. On to 
the stately city of Washington, through valleys 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 113 

teeming with mellow fruit ; bj mountains em- 
bossed with emerald-like farms and studded with 
grazing herds. Our exiles are being but ill pre- 
pared for the valley of desolation into which 
they will enter a few months later when the sor- 
rowful South receives them into her bosom. 

The acorn from which has sprung the noble 
forest of St. Mary's College was the humble 
brick schoolhouse in which M. Dubois, a zealous 
member of the Society of St. Sulpice, taught and 
catechised the sturdy youth of the Cumberlands 
and which he subsequently exchanged for a more 
commodious log tenement on the rise of the hill. 

Tiny, indeed, seemed the little, rough habita- 
tion that sheltered the nucleus of the now famous 
Seminary ; simple and inconspicuous as is the be- 
ginning of all great things and exemplifying the 
practical truth, the profound philosophy of the 
exhortation : — " Seek ye the kingdom of God 
and all . . . things shall be added unto you." 
And the breath of the Spirit moved within that 
cabin school, the power of the Spirit overshad- 
owed it, and the wisdom of the Spirit guided it ; 
and from the rude logs of that humble domicile 
have arisen the stately halls and noble colon- 



114 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

fiades of St. Mary's College. Instead of the 
handful of pupils with a single teacher, the 
great Seminary accommodates upwards of two 
hundred students to-day, and the large and gifted 
faculty numbers about fifteen professors. 

Men have gone forth from the walls of this 
institution whose names the nations love to 
praise. Among the eminent divines who hail her 
" Alma Mater " .is His Eminence, James, Cardinal 
Gibbons, author, critic and philosopher, whose 
splendid productions are the pride of American 
literature and the glory of the American Church. 

St. Mary's Seminary is the American Le Puy. 
Under the guidance of its trained Sulpicians, 
who do the work of specialists in preparing 
young candidates for the priesthood, have stud- 
ied some of the brainiest prelates, the noblest 
missionaries, the most efficient priests that 
modern times have known. Upon that Order, 
indeed, seems to have descended the fullness of 
the power of Aaron. 

Once more within academic halls and meeting 
therein not less than twenty-five of their own 
countrymen, the drooping spirits of our exiles 
revive for the nonce^ though the speedy depar- 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WH.DERNESS. 115 

ture of their venerable companion clu voyage 
casts a shade upon the sunshine of their welcome. 

To Louis Yally, the parting with Monseigneur 
Elder was even more painful than to the others. 
The youth of Lavaudieu had isolated himself from 
all that the heart most values by his abrupt depar- 
ture from his native land, and had forfeited the 
confidence of the beloved guardians of his child- 
hood, the inmates of his home. In consequence 
of his course of action, the kindly prelate of 
Mississippi stood to him as the sole representa- 
tive of human affection, the single source to 
which he could turn for sympathy in the stern 
and stormy future that awaited him. The tender- 
hearted Bishop was also deeply affected. More 
than the responsibility of a parent seemed to 
have dev^olved upon him and, as on the memor- 
able day at Le Puy, the day of revelation, the 
prelate clasped his spiritual son in his embrace. 
But the separation was not to be a long one, for 
by the next Christmas-tide the members of our 
little band were reunited. 

After the storms of spirit and of heart through 
which the four Levites had passed between the 
evening of the Bishop's visit to the French Sem- 



116 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

inary and that of their arrival in Baltimore; 
after the sacrifice, the partings, the passage of 
the sea, the clouds of stirring incident pass away 
for the time, leaving the blue heaven of peace 
within their spirits. The restful atmosphere of 
St. Mary's penetrates the inmost recesses of their 
being and, with feelings akin to happiness, the 
exiles devote themselves to the study of the lan- 
guage of their adopted country. The large num- 
ber of Frenchmen present, however, and the 
constant temptation to relapse into the music of 
their native tongue, now doubly dear to their 
homesick hearts, prevented every one of our 
quartette from making rapid progress. For 
Louis Tally, the difficulty was even greater than 
for his comrades ; and to the last moment of his 
life, the most sacred utterances of his heart were 
always voiced in the rhythmic tongue that lends 
itself to high emotion, and merges as naturally 
into song as the river merges into the ocean. 
But here, as at Le Buy, the sweetness of his na- 
ture and the light of his spirit made him univer- 
sally and tenderly beloved, and softened those 
obstacles to progress that, in the pathway of 
learning, always beset his tardy feet. And all 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 117 

the toil and struggle and practical failure of his 
endeavors to master the intricacies of English, 
were hidden by the attractive mantle of his in- 
exhaustible humor. A wise man has said that 
" Humor is grace " ; experience teaches that hu- 
mor is power ; and its electric current was never 
lost in the ocean of his triumphant life. 

At Mount St. Mary's, as in Paris, the clerical 
cassock and rabais of the seminarian had to be 
discarded during outdoor exercise, for citizens' 
dress and the uncompromising stovepipe hat. 
To the peasant of Ardeche the head-gear in 
question seems to have been a veritable hete noir. 
The transition from the flat, broad-brimmed 
chapeau of Le Puy to the insignia of aldermanic 
dignity and Wall Street complacency, was start- 
ling, indeed ; and no new made prisoner ever 
donned his stripes with more reluctance than the 
lad of Lavaudieu, his stovepipe. But even in 
that emergency, the humor , of the situation 
brought its unction. 

The sun of a bonny day has nearly run its 
course in Maryland, as the four recruits of Mon- 
seigneur Elder, dressed in the obnoxious costume, 
sally forth from the Seminary to stroll amid its 



118 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

beautiful suburbs. The picturesque country and, 
above all, the voice of the mountains, calls them; 
and accustomed to long walks in France, the 
comrades stroll unconsciously on, until the de- 
cline of the afternoon warns them that they have 
wandered far, indeed, and must return at once if 
they would reach the Seminary in time for the 
evening office. But lo ! to come was one ques- 
tion ; to return, another ; and as they endeavor 
to direct their steps homeward, it is found that 
not one of the quartette has any idea of the 
w^ay. What is to be done ? The inexorable sun 
sinks deeper into the west ; oh ! for some Joshua 
to arrest its speed. Long, level rays shoot like 
lances down the forest aisles, and the deep flush 
of the western sky creeps slowly up the zenith. 
A night in the whispering woods were not so 
dreadful, but that would call forth the indigna- 
tion, the amazement of the professors. The sol- 
emn shadows look as if they might shelter some 
Hiawatha, some kindly Chactus who would lead 
them home ; surely help will come anon. 

Our grown up babes in the woods heave a sigh 
of relief, as an aged negro, a veritable " Uncle 
Eemus," emerges from the shadow of the forest 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 119 

on his homeward path after a day of tree-felling. 
Simultaneously, in full dress Parisian, the four 
begin to speak. Now, as the amazed expression 
of the sable newcomer is observed, a look of con- 
sternation springs from face to face, and the 
seminarians stare despairingly at each other : — 
"ZZ ne comj^rends jpas.'''^ 

Truly, "^7 ne compr ends pas. "^^ The Senegam- 
bian does not understand, nor can ever be made 
to understand anything but cotton-field English 
though our innocents gesticulate until doomsday. 

The situation grows tragical ; the rose light 
deepens into purple; the full moon comes out 
sedately and looks quizzically on, and one by 
one, the little stars peer down and twinkle mer- 
rily at the fun. Growing exasperated at the 
darky's irresponsiveness, the civir Frenchmen — • 
to a man — doff their stovepipe hats and, bowing 
low before the dusky auditor, repeat the one 
word, " Indicate." 

" Indicate," sings de Mourenger, his courtl}'' 
figure swaying with emotion, " Indicate." 

^'Indicate," shrieks Florimond Blanc, his arms 
swinging from side to side like an inebriated 
wind-mill. 



120 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

"Indicate," cries Louis Yallj, the word be- 
coming almost a groan. With starting eyes and 
protruding tongue, the darky gazes upon the 
strangers, rolling his great orbs until onl}^ the 
whites are visible, and slowly backing, step by 
step, away from the mysterious quartette. Night 
is beginning to fall ; the big shadows walk like 
ghosts beneath the trees ; from a hollow cypress, 
the weird hoot of an owl is heard at intervals. 
"Indicate," scream the seminarians in chorus, 
and the owl answers, " Indicate." 

" Indicate," mourn the Frenchmen. The owl 
repeats "Indicate." "Indicate," bellow the 
seminarians, and the owl — but Uncle Kemus 
doesn't stay to hear what the owl repeats. The 
terrified African, now assured that the strangers 
are " hoodooing " him, utters a cabalistic word 
to undo the " conjur," wheels swiftly about, and 
runs like Brer Kabbit when Brer Wolf is after 
him. All the bogies of the forest are at his 
heels ; every spook of which his mammy ever 
told him, takes after him as in his piccaninny 
days and, running at mad speed, the African 
pitches straight into a respectable citizen of Bal- 
timore. Gesticulating, in his turn, to the aston- 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 121 

ished pedestrian, the latter is made to under- 
stand that something is wrong with the forest. 
Proceeding to investigate matters, he comes 
abruptly upon our four Frenchmen, and a little 
more gesticulation and the rescuer's homoeo- 
pathic knowledge of " Parlez vous^"^ settles the 
difficulty. A trifle after hours, the belated stu- 
dents reenter the Seminary, but the story they 
tell disarms the wrath of the faculty. The 
peaceful days at St. Mary's pass swiftly and upon 
soundless wings ; the restful presence of the 
Great Queen Patroness of the institution is 
everywhere felt and the subtle atmosphere of 
calm speaks its holy mandate, " Peace, be still," 
to every spirit. A sweet and calm monotony 
pervades the classic halls, and over the soul and 
heart of the youth of Lavaudieu falls the peace 
that earth cannot give or take away. But there 
comes a day when the hand of illness presses 
rudely upon his frame, and in the great school of 
the Master, the young student is to learn another 
lesson. Step by step, the Supreme Teacher is 
leading from height to height the peasant youth 
who is destined to stand one day upon the sacred 
Hill of Wisdom. The terrible grip of inflamma- 



122 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

tory rheumatism seizes upon his members and 
holds them as in a vise. From sinew to sinew, 
from limb to limb, the subtle, serpent-like pain 
creeps surely on ; and after battling bravely 
against its inexorable power, Louis Yally suc- 
cumbs. The Levite is placed upon his bed of 
suffering and, for the time, all things seem to 
end. Greater than the torture of racked nerves 
and burning frame, more paralyzing than the 
fetters of agony that bind the members of his 
body, is the fearful numbness that overwhelms 
his mental energies. One by one, as the stars go 
out at the approach of the thunder-cloud, the 
lights of his spirit, the shining constellations of 
his hopes, his longings, his high ambitions in 
regard to his future work, are extinguished. 
Further and further the life and glorious labors 
of the missionary recede. From every side the 
shores fail back ; the old life, he has abandoned, 
the new, abandons him. Closer and closer press 
the grim spectres of despondency, of loneliness, 
of disappointment. Deeper and deeper grow 
the shadows, but the light is shining still. In 
the blackest midnight of despair, in the fiercest 
storm of sorrow, the Light shines ever on. As 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 123 

the valleys praise the mountains and the shadows 
praise the sun ; as the deepest depths attest the 
noblest heights, so the very blackness of the 
spirit's gloom bears witness of the glory that lies 
beyond the dark. And suddenly, as though a 
glittering star ray pierces through the midnight 
of the sufferer's soul, flashes a vivad inspiration 
that gives him courage anew, and sends the 
electric thrill of hope through tortured soul 
and body. Out of the Infinite Mind comes the 
suggestion to invoke the Patron of the Universal 
Church in his extremity — the powerful Prime 
Minister of the King whose intercession had pro- 
cured the recruits in prompt response to the 
petition of the Bishop of Mississippi. Speaking 
to the mighty Patriarch as a child would address 
a well beloved guardian, the youth of Lavaudieu 
exclaims : 

" You brought me here, St. Joseph, it is your 
duty to take care of me. Either find a way for 
me to return to my country and my people, or 
heal me of tliis sickness and allow me to perform 
the duties for which I came." 

It is now the beautiful day of Maundy Thurs- 
day, the day on which the Divine Foster son of 



124 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the Patriarch went forth to seal his tremendous 
mission. Does some memory of the tender past 
steal amid the uncreated joys of Paradise into 
the great heart of the Carpenter, and bid Sim 
give immediate heed to the follower of His 
Blessed Ward and enable the stricken volunteer 
to go, likewise, forth to Tabor and Calvary? 
Let the chorus of souls who have experienced 
sudden renewals in body and mind make answer ; 
and down the ages from the far time when Elias 
arose from his physical prostration and Saul from 
his moral inertia ; when Lazarus came forth from 
his tomb and the daughter of Jairus from her 
couch ; when new life beat in the frozen heart of 
the son of the widow of J^ain. 

When Easter morning dawned above Mount St. 
Mary's, just four days after the simple petition 
of the lad of Ardeche, Louis Yally had suffi- 
ciently recovered from his illness to accompany 
his fellow students upon a pleasure jaunt to a 
spot several miles distant from the college ! 
Little wonder then, that the spiritual and moral 
energies of the young missionary were increased 
a thousandfold. 

As the tumultuous waves of pain receded from 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 125 

his body, the gloom withdrew from mind and 
spirit and every faculty emerged exalted, puri- 
fied and ennobled by the tempest ; and upon 
every hope hung, dew-like, the jewel drops of 
renewed and deepened life. Another mountain 
has been scaled by the lad of Lavaudieu ; an- 
other plateau has been reached in his ascending 
pathway to the new Jerusalem ; and through all 
his subsequent life, the inspiration of that tine 
experience burned like a celestial beacon. From 
that day forth, his faith was merged in vision ; 
and the voice of his ministry and the voice of 
his spirit chanted ceaselessly the canticle of 
Simeon: — "Mine eyes have beheld the Lord"; 
and with the Koyal Poet, — " O Lord my God, I 
cried unto Thee, and Thou hast healed me. . . . 
For with Thee is the fountain of life ; in Thy light 
shall we see light." 

As in the hour of dawn, the variant lights play 
and interplay, shine and shimmer and merge, 
anon, into each other ; — now, royal purple — now, 
sombre gray — now, rose, and finally gold, the 
imperial precursor of the orb of day ; so in 
human life the lights and shadows, the tyrian of 
triumph, the rose flush of enthusiasm, and the 



126 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

dull hues of despondency and seeming failure, 
melt and mingle and succeed each other with 
kaleidoscopic harmonj'^, to be merged at last in 
the eternal splendors of the Sun of Justice. 

St. Mary's Seminary, its mountains and its 
shrine, now slowly fade from our mental vision. 
In place of the peace and the silence thereof, 
comes the rush and tumult of a railroad train as 
three of our exiles, de Mourenger, Blanc and 
Louis Yally, become traveling companions once 
again ; — the young Chevalier remains at the Semi- 
nary. 

Swiftly, into the desolate heart of the South 
rushes the panting engine. Past plantations, 
where the palatial homes of the merchant princes 
lie mouldering in awful ruin ; the white shafts of 
the columns like prostrate giants amid the pollut- 
ing weeds, the gaunt frames of the negro cabins 
with their tottering chimneys pointing like grimy 
fingers to the insensate blue of heaven. Past 
the rudely-marked mounds piled over ghastly 
trenches where southern chivalry is festering in 
the dust ; past sinister battle-fields where hastily- 
constructed memorials mark the red footprints 
of war ; past scorched and desolate acres where 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 127 

the withering camp-fire has burned, or the de- 
structive torch been lighted, leaving the spot a 
blackened wilderness. On and on, deeper and 
deeper into the desolation, — the man-made desert ; 
the very soil is a universal sob, and the solemn 
mosses of the ancient, battle-scarred trees lend 
funeral drapery for the universal obsequies. 
Graduall}^ about the responsive heart of Louis 
Yally, gathers something of the deadly desola- 
tion ; but the ardent fires of the missionary spirit 
burn more brightly for the gloom, and from 
them issues, phoenix-like, the perfect zeal of the 
apostle. 

Here in this wilderness of woe, the Levite be- 
holds his work ; here, where heart and soil are 
parched by the burning simoon of war that has 
swept over them ; here, where the South, like 
Rachel, weeps beside her dead ; where Faith has 
furled her sun-bright wings and dwells silently 
beside the tomb ; and Religion flees, like an ex- 
iled seraph, from her fanes. The shadow of a 
mighty cross lies on all things ; only the touch 
of the Tree of Golgotha can vivify its crushing 
weight. 

At such thoughts as these the eager soul of 



128 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the Yalljs' son bounds forward. Oh ! for the 
wings of the eagle to rush onward. And tardily, 
for his restless ardor, the swinging train speeds 
on. 

The Mississippi, like a gigantic moccasin, un- 
winds its gloomy coils against the dense for- 
ests of the Southern horizon. With their first 
glimpse of the Father of Waters that stretches 
his mighty length across the immensity of this 
Republic, the enthusiasm of the Levites is kindled 
anew, as kindled the hearts of La Salle, of 
De Soto, of Pere Marquette, of the army of 
heroic pioneers, in contemplation of its sinis- 
ter grandeur. Stream of mysterious memories ! 
Eiver of a wild and ruthless past chanting its 
dread secrets to the immemorial pines that bend 
their holy brows to listen ! 

At a little burg in the State of Mississippi 
known as Hill City, our travelers leave the train 
and take passage upon one of the river steamers. 
After journeying about twelve hours in and out 
of the devious windings of the stream the haughty 
hills of I^atchez show like crouching buffalo in 
the distance. One by one, the monsters shake 
out their rugged limbs until they rise to their 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WU.DERXESS. 129 

full stature against the sky line ; the scars of 
the historic bluffs are now discernible — bluffs 
whereon the pennons of four nations have flung 
their colors to the breeze ; the red and gold of 
Spain, the lilies of France, the Lion of St. George, 
the stars of the Confederacy; and further back 
within the ages, before hidalgo and chevalier, 
before English trader and Southern patriot, when 
the royal race of red men — kings, indeed, upon 
a kingly soil, — dwelt upon their ancestral cliffs, 
the blazing symbol of the Sun gleamed beacon- 
like from the bluffs, and marked the imperial 
teepee of the Tamerlane of the Western world. 
Upon this hill, the Sacred Fire burned ceaselessly 
upon the altar of the Spirit; from yon high 
promontor}^, the maiden Le-an-Noor leaped with 
her lover into the mighty waters. A little fur- 
ther on, the outline of Fort Rosalie can be seen ; 
— the Fort named for the beautiful Countess of 
Pontchartrain ; within its breastworks the whole 
French garrison (with a single exception) were 
massacred, in 1729, by the powerful l^atchez 
tribe from which the present city takes its name. 
, Upon the town itself, as upon the surrounding 
country, the hand of War had pressed ; its lurid 



130 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

footprints are everywhere visible, its baleful in- 
fluence breathes stagnation, poverty and spiritual 
starvation. The few, meagre cotton bales upon 
the landing in lieu of the snowy thousands 
formerly shipped by the lordly planters to New 
Orleans, tell a melancholy story ; and a scanty 
importation of provisions and household goods is 
seen upon the wharf, in place of the abundant 
luxuries that hitherto poured upon the landing 
from the four quarters of the globe to minister 
to the comfort of the Sybarite masters of the 
chateau. 

Silent are the halls of Concord, where their 
Excellencies, the colonial Governors, have dwelt 
in oriental splendor ; where a stately pageant of 
the great men of several centuries has passed, — 
Louis Phillipe, when the exiled Dauphin of 
France ; the courtly De Lafayette, and later, 
Sargent S. Prentiss and others no less notable. 
The gloom of stagnation lies upon all thiugs ; 
too soon for reconstruction, too soon for any- 
thing but inanition, — the unlovely period of 
transition before the South can gather her 
scattered forces, or arouse her dormant energies. 

In the vast wilderness of Mississippi, the little 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 131 

missions are few and far removed from each 
other, and a callous indifference, — almost an un- 
consciousness of spiritual things — is begotten of 
the torpor that lies upon all hearts. 

The diocese of Natchez was, at that time, one 
of the poorest in the South. The Eoman Catho- 
lic population was small and destitute, verily, 
the mustard seed from which was to arise a won- 
drous growth. Three or four churches only had 
their resident priests, and those were scattered 
throughout the immense area of a state whose 
inhabitants belonged to the various Protestant 
denominations. Natchez, Jackson, Yicksburg 
and Bay St. Louis had pastors ; but for many 
years, the entire eastern portion of Mississippi 
had only the little chapel at Paulding. Most of 
those widely separated missions could be reached 
only on foot or on horseback, there being little 
or no railroad communication at that period. 
Such was the early field of Monseigneur Leray, 
afterward Archbishop of New Orleans; of Pere 
Grignon, subsequently the beloved Yicar General 
of the Diocese, and of Pere Mouton, who merits 
the title of Pioneer of the Faith. In addition 
to the difficulties of travel, the Yellow Plague 



132 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

lifted its horrid head by every swamp and 
prairie of the state. With the advent of the dog 
days the loathsome monster would creep from 
its secret lairs and breathe deadly poison upon 
the atmosphere. No medieval knight with 
brazen shield ever did battle with such a foe ; 
St. George never met so vile an enemy, nor 
Dante, such a Cerberus. Into the insatiate maw 
of this many headed monster, the gallant mis- 
sionaries cast the bread of charity, the strong 
meat of self-abnegation, and the hot hearths 
blood of martyrdom. 

In the city of Natchez the light of Faith 
burned low and fitfully. The poverty stricken 
congregation struggled to take out a scanty 
livelihood ; heavy debt w^eighed upon the 
cathedral and the spiritual energies of the 
people seemed, for the time, in a state of 
lethargy. 

Again, the depression of their environment 
reacts upon the hearts of the young missionaries ; 
even across the sanguine soul of Louis Yally 
a freezing doubt casts the shadow of its clammy 
wings. But the glory of the Light bursts forth 
in this, as in his former hours of spiritual depres- 



THE PASSAGE OF THE WILDERNESS. 133 

sion ; bursts forth in all its power and beauty, 
when the Bishop of Mississippi, coming forth to 
welcome the three Levites, clasps the youth of 
Lavaudieu once more to his bosom. And Jacob 
thrilled with no purer delight as he pressed the 
young Benjamin to his rejoicing heart. 



CHAPTER YIII 

vox POPULI 

One who has watched beside a summer pool 
and seen its crystal clearness suddenly over- 
shadowed by the dusky wings of some passing 
bird, beholds the physical image of the swift 
advent of sorrow to the human heart. Now the 
crystal waters of the spirit are flashing in the 
golden noon of peace; in its shining depths, a 
thousand sunbeams play ; upon its breast, the 
shimmering ripples spread like circling rainbows. 
Suddenly, some nameless woe, some gloom from 
out the infinite, descends lightning-like upon it. 
The sunbeams die, the rainbow withers, the light 
goes out in sombre shadow. The law of nature 
is the law of spirit, the law of life and death, are 
one, — the laws of joy and sorrow, of grief and 
grace, of inspiration and of sin. Always the 
vital moments, the deep emotions, the fierce 
temptations, the immortal impulses spring sud- 
denly from the universe of spirit, bringing light 

134 



vox POPULL 135 

or gloom, death or Promethean fire, to the 
startled human soul. 

And in the tiny hamlet of Lavaudieu, beyond 
the great Atlantic, the '' life that never was on 
land or sea " — the sunlight of the spirit — shines 
upon the hearts of Simon and Marie Yally. 
The wheels of the good wife's loom flash in the 
radiant morning, and as the shining shuttle darts 
to and fro, an immortal fabric is weaving 
simultaneously thread by thread, inch by inch 
with the homespun. Into the woof and warp of 
this invisible fabric, the thrifty housewife weaves 
the skeins of hope, of high ambition, of tender 
yearning for the son of her heart — her last born 
— her noble lad who will one day stand before 
the altar, the lad who even now, perhaps, amid 
all the learned professors of Le Puy is thinking 
of his mother, in Ardeche, is working out his 
holy calling, is becoming great and well beloved 
of men. 

A sudden snap ! an ugly snarl, the homespun 
is blemished ! Intent upon unravelling the un- 
sightly knot, Marie Yally does not hear the sharp 
rap of the peasant beside the open door. Another 
knock, a little more peremptory, and the matron 



136 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

starts violently, letting the unfinished homespun 
fall in a tangled heap to the ground. " What 

wilt thou have at this early hour, neighbor ? " 

But the inquiry dies upon her lips as the peasant 
holds a great envelope high into the air. " Some- 
thing thou wilt not refuse, good mother, but this 
time, 'tis I that am the giver." Almost snatch- 
ing the letter from the neighbor's hand, Marie 
Yally hastily tears open the covering — letters are 
rare incidents in Lavaudieu, and this one must 
be from Louis, — Louis, her only correspondent. 
Surely, it has come in answer to the dreams be- 
side the loom, as scarcely a fortnight has passed 
since his last message ; the lad is not wont to 
write so often. For a moment, the bearer stands 
within the doorway, half in curiosity, half in 
sympathy, watching the beaming countenance 
of the w^oman. He is about to turn away, how- 
ever, when a sudden change in the face of the 
reader rivets him to the spot. 

The erstwhile radiant face is frozen, ghastly 
pale, Marie Yally stares at the paper as one dis- 
traught ; then, before the astonished peasant can 
make one step forward, sinks — with a slight moan 
— heavily to the ground. 



vox POPULI. 13Y 

For a few moments, while the letter bearer 
hastens to the vineyard to summon Simon, Marie 
lies in a deathlike swoon, the mysterious message 
crushed in her right hand. Beside her, the tan- 
gled threads of the homespun lie, a hopeless ruin ; 
within her spirit the other fabric with all its 
golden patterns, dissolves into nothingness. 
Scarcely fifty yards from his domicile, Simon 
Yally is pruning diligently, the too luxuriant 
tendrils of his vineyard. The first hue of ame- 
thyst is stealing over the heavy clusters ; the 
harvest will be a fine one. No time must be lost, 
and John, the eldest son of the Yallys, works 
diligently beside his parent ; even the deft fingers 
of the lass, Marguerite, are called into requisition. 
JSTot a fleck is seen upon the dazzling azure of the 
sky. The soft odors of June played caressingly 
around them ; the musical tinkle of the sheep 
bells, the far off lowing of the cows is heard : the 
subtle, nameless peace of the summer noon bathes 
all things, entering into the hearts of the labor- 
ers and weaving there, as in the heart of Marie 
Yally, its beautiful, ill-defined vision. All of the 
workers turn hastily as the panting messenger 
comes within call ; — " Haste ! haste ; Simon, thy 



138 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

good wife hath been stricken ! " For the three 
toilers, all the June day lies dead ; and by its 
bier, the solemn shadows stand. With one ac- 
cord, they cast aside the pruning knives and rush 
to ward the cottage. Hastening across the thresh- 
old, the distracted husband and children cast 
themselves upon their knees beside the insensible 
form of Marie Yally. The quick eye of Simon 
discovers the crushed paper in the hand of his 
wife. Almost forcibly disengaging it from her 
convulsive grasp, he casts a rapid glance at its 
contents. The same swift, stony horror seems to 
chill his features to marble; with trembling 
hand, and in utter silence, he passes the paper to 
his son. Marguerite creeps to her brother's side 
and reads with him in silence : — 

" My dear Parents : — 

"My future address will be Baltimore, 
Maryland, U. S. A. Adieu. 

" Your affectionate son, 

Louis Yally." 

ISTot a word passes between the stricken mem- 
bers of the family ; upon them all has come a 
numbness; a sort of temporary paralysis. All 
hearts are turned to the prostrate Marie. Mutely, 



vox POPULI. 139 

Simon passes out of the room and draws fresh 
water from the well. At its cool touch, Marie 
stirs slightly. The closed lids quiver painfully ; 
now the eyes of Marie meet the eyes of Simon. 
In that one heart-breaking look, the unutterable 
anguish of each is spoken. Eeverently, John and 
Marguerite turn aside; another moment, and 
Marie is clasped in the convulsive embrace of her 
husband : now come his first words : — " It is the 
will of God, my wife ; we must bear it bravely." 
But scarcely have the words unloosed the pent 
up emotions of his overcharged heart, when a 
flood of sorrow bursts its bonds, and a burning 
torrent of tears rushes from the eyes of the ago- 
nized father ; for an instant, Simon is oblivious 
of his surroundings and the tremendous anguish 
of outraged paternity takes its headlong course. 
But out of the awful tempest comes a sudden 
calm. His streaming eyes fall accidentally upon 
the figure of the Crucified, — the outraged Brother 
of a graceless kindred, a woe beyond all other 
woes, a desolation beyond all other desolations. 
And suddenly, as upon the waves of the Sea of 
Galilee upon the Gennesareth of his spirit he hears 
the Master's voice : " Be still " ; and again from 



140 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the depths of his now chastened anguish, Simon 
Yally sobs aloud : — " My wife, my children, it is 
the will of God, He will teach us how to bear it." 
But through the words of consolation, the tears 
flow on ; — tears fed by the fountains of the in- 
most spirit ; tears that are never to cease until 
the eyes of Simon Yally are withered and his 
vision, for more than a year, almost quenched in 
darkness. Beholding the deep anguish of her 
husband, Marie Yally rises ; by a heroic effort 
gathers up the ruined homespun. With her first 
glance at the fabric, the overwhelming memory 
of the morning's vision sweeps over her, and for 
the first time, the mother also weeps ; the awful 
dryness has passed ; the crushed spirit finds re- 
lief. Sorrowfully replacing the torn linen upon 
the loom, Marie recommences her labors. 

Always amid death and anguish and breaking 
of hearts the shuttles must fly, the wheels must 
turn. In the iron mechanism of toil the soul is 
caught and kneaded and fashioned into greater and 
more imperishable beauty. The red blood stains 
the shuttles, and tears make facile, the awful 
mechanism ; sometimes the heart's blood itself 
runs between the wheels ; but all the while, the 



vox POPULI. 141 

immortal cloth is being woven, and the spirit is 
being molded into the likeness of its Maker. 
And in the manacles of labor, the fetters that, in 
reality, are purest gold, the hearts of the Yallys 
are caught and recreated. 

Back to the vineyard, goes the noble Simon, 
accompanied by his eldest, now his only son. 
Over the frame of the vine grower, the semblance 
of age has stolen ; his gait is somewhat irregular ; 
his shoulders are slightly stooped. Great emo- 
tions are infinite. In all soul crises the element 
of time is obliterated, and the spirit owes its 
kinship to eternity, its heritage of immortality. 
Moments do the work of years. And the 
anguish of the foregoing hour has deposed the 
vine grower from the strength of manhood to the 
feebleness of old age. Within the cottage, the 
maiden Marguerite sits beside her stricken mother, 
aiding her trembling hands to guide the skeins. 
A dull stupefaction, a mortal inertia, seems to 
have fallen upon Marie, chaining all her facul- 
ties in a lethargy that settles more and more 
heavily upon her. It is with a pitiful substitute 
for her habitual cheery welcome that she greets 
several women of the hamlet, who, hearing of the 



142 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

disturbance in the home of the Yallys, have 
come to offer service, — and perhaps, to hear a 
little news, for as yet Dame Eumor has given 
them but vague information. Seeing the letter 
that lies upon the window-seat, one aged crone 
reads aloud the brief announcement therein. A 
couple of dames passing outside, are attracted by 
the clamor ; seeing this, a few young wives, who 
are drawing water from the Yally well, come 
also near the threshold ; beholdiug their action 
from afar, some market folk from the highroad 
pause a moment irresolutely, and now, overcome 
with curiosity, turn into the Yallys' vineyard. 
Eeaching the house just in time to hear the con- 
tents of Louis' letter, the foremost a buxom 
dame of forty summers, whose lad is the scape- 
goat of the village, elbows her way through the 
assembled peasants, and confronts the bewildered 
Marie Yally. " Did I not tell you, Marie, that 
lad of yours was no better than the rest of us — 
for all he must go to the great seminary and 
wear a priest's cassock while his betters are left 
vine pruning. ISTow, there's my Alphonse, who 
has a bad name in the town because he likes his 
joke a bit ; but I'll warrant you Louis has done 



vox POPULL 143 

the worse and been expelled ; — and serve you 
right." " Yes, serve you right, Marie Yally, 
serve you right, I say ; " interrupted old Mother 
Brousard whose big gander was outpriced by 
Marie's in the market town ; '* and don't the 
holy Bible say as much ? Don't the holy Bible 
tell you that pride must have a fall, and folks 
that sit in the first place must go down to the 
last ? " " Bien ! and you're speaking truth, Mere 
Brousard, ain't it been nigh on one hundred 
years since a lad of Lavaudieu was priested, and 
did you think, Marie, that your Louis would be 
the next ? Seems like the Yallys are mighty high 
minded of late, seeing that none of their neigh- 
bors are fit for their company." A slight titter 
goes round the group as Mere Gabriel makes 
this last invective ; all the village folk know of 
the tiff between the two women, since Marie's 
quilt took the prize over Gabriel's at the fair. 
But the diversion is but momentary, and the 
villagers return with renewed zest to their prey. 
" We told you, Marie Yally, when Louis came 
home with his college airs last Whitsuntide, that 
the boy would never be a priest ; and Louis 
knew it in his heart ; and now he's done a wrong 



144 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

and turned his back and run ! " " Aye," chimed 
in the group, in everj^ tone from the shrill voice 
of Mere Brousard to the rasping tones of Mere 
Gabriel. Standing closely by the side of the 
half dazed Marie, Marguerite presses her mother's 
hand convulsively; a fiery indignation gather- 
ing in her eyes. She makes one impatient step 
toward the villagers, and her lips are half open 
to reply. Before the girl can speak, however, 
Marie Yally, roused from her semi-lethargy, her 
whole frame quivering with righteous indig- 
nation, puts the girl firmly and somew^hat 
roughly aside. Her countenance has grown 
somewhat paler, her eyes blaze with outraged 
pride: — "Kun aw^ay, did you say, neighbor 
Julie, and thou. Mother Gabriel, and all of you 
gaping folk ; — didst you dare to say my Louis 
has run away?" Instinctively, the peasant 
group falls back, cowed by the majesty of the 
mother's wrath. Mere Brousard edges slightly 
toward the door, and Mere Gabriel slides dexter- 
ously behind the form of her buxom neighbor. 
Seeing their movements, a slightly contemptuous 
curl trembles upon the lips of Marie Yally, 
changing in some measure, the nature of her re- 



vox POPULI. 145 

proaches. " Cowards ! you are cowards, all of 
you, and not worth my words ; nevertheless, I 
tell ze that Louis Yally shall be a priest of God, 
and that all of you will be glad to kiss the hem 
of his cassock. As for you, Julie Brousard, — " 
but the routed Julie has given the slip, and is 
making the best of her hobble to the highroad. 
By the time Marie Yally has finished her hot re- 
tort, not a villager remains within the domicile. 
Without, only one aged peasant ambles down 
the vineyard, as Simon Yally, attracted by the 
noise of the village folk, approaches his thresh- 
old, with a great fear tearing at his heart, a 
fear that, for the nonce, obscures the memory of 
his unhappy son — what if Marie, the wife of his 
youth, has been taken, what if the blow has been 
too much for the mother heart ? Almost dread- 
ing to cross his door-step Simon Yally pauses an 
instant, half unconsciously, in the field ; as he 
does so the far off murmur of the departing 
villagers is borne to him ; and crippled Alphonse 
accosts him brusquely ; — something like a sneer 
on his withered face, and an ugly taunt in his 
accents ; — " Soho ! soho ! good Monsieur Yally, 
you have lost both your money and your lad." 



146 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

And with a malicious chuckle, the hunchback 
disappears, like a modern Caliban, into the 
forest. Without deigning to reply, Simon Yally 
lifts his eyes to the virgin blue of the heavens ; 
tall pillars of cloud afire with noon, stand out in 
the ether, like the portal to the tabernacle of 
the Most High. Filled with the majesty and 
power of the day, the vine grower murmurs half 
aloud ; — " Fiat voluntas tua.''^ 

Within the cottage, conflicting emotions sweep 
over the spirit of Marie Yally. Stern indigna- 
tion at the apparent ingratitude of their son suc- 
ceeds her haughty resentment of the torments of 
the villagers ; then, as a white-winged dove, de- 
scending amid passion's harpies, the pure spirit of 
maternal love flutters softly down and nestles 
within her heaving bosom, bringing a holy peace 
on its wings. 

As Simon enters, the indignant Marguerite en- 
deavors to explain to her father, the events of 
the morning,— the rencontre with the villagers. 
But a comprehensive glance has passed between 
husband and wife, — one of those looks in which 
soul touches soul, — with a sign, Simon motions 
his daughter to be silent ; and in silence, once 



vox POPULI. 147 

more presses his wife to his bosom. " Fiat vo- 
lunta tua," Simon murmurs once again, so softly 
that even Marguerite cannot hear, and between 
the blessed Avords, stream their mingled tears. 

Down in the little hamlet of Lavaudieu, the 
village folk, released from the restrainiDg pres- 
ence of Marie Yally, give free reign to the jest, 
the mocking sympathy aroused in the early 
morning by the astounding letter of Louis. At 
the rustic tavern, where certain old codjers had 
been, erstwhile, targets for the wit of the Yallys' 
son, the jibe and joke runs high. And when the 
Sabbath falls, with its accustomed beauty upon 
the little Church of St. Andrew's, nodding, ges- 
ticulating groups, linger longer than their wont 
among the peaceful graves. All during the good 
cure's sermon, which was on '' Le Bon Charite,'" 
Mere Brousard, Mere Gabriel, and pretty Mere 
Fifine stirred uneasily in their places for very 
restlessness and longing to meet and discuss the 
latest news from the Yallys. As Simon walked 
bravely from the church after Mass, between the 
lines of peering villagers, his heart was keenly 
sensible of the omitted greetings, of a slight 
shrinking of the peasant folk from him, the in- 



148 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

voluntary but universal movement of humanity 
away from failure, from sorrow, from misfor- 
tune, in its Protean forms. It is the systole and 
diastole of the social order. Grieved by the ill 
concealed malice of the villagers, the gentle cure 
issues from the sacristy, and stands in the midst 
of the gossiping peasants — a veritable Father 
Felician. "My children," something unusual in 
the pastor's voice arrests their attention ; " My 
children, you have worshiped God with your 
lips, but your hearts were far from Him. The lad 
whom you slander was the child of my own heart. 
I say to you that all is yet well wdth Louis 
Yally, the day will come when he will stand in 
the sanctuary — perchance before your altar 
within. I entreat you to withhold your judg- 
ment until further news, and to do in all things 
to the lad as you would have done unto your- 
selves." 

In the great necropolis of life, in the crowded 
cities, the thoroughfares of humanity, the mock- 
ing voice of the people is uplifted as in the little 
churchyard of Lavaudieu. Standing upon the 
dead of countless generations, standing upon 
the tombs of material prosperity, upon the 



vox POPULI. 149 

mouldering mausoleums of human pride and 
power, the querulous, discordant voice chants its 
wild hosannas at the triumph of some illusion, 
and shrieks its Bacchic paeans at the seeming 
death of the Eternal and the True. It is the bat- 
tle-cry of the strong arch-fiend : " Down with 
the Eight and the Keal ! honor and glory and 
triumph to Shadows and to Sin ! " but the in- 
vincible Michaels of the Truth stand waiting for 
the victory. 

Always the life apart is the life misunderstood 
by others. Always the man apart is the man 
decried and libelled by his contemporaries. And 
the bloodthirsty generations, ever armed with 
stone, stand waiting for the Elishas and the 
Stephens of the race ; and kindle the torture fire 
when Savonarola passes by. It is the Kismet of 
prophet and poet ; of philosopher and saint ; it is 
the history of those secluded orders in the Catho- 
lic Church whose calling leads them unto the 
Tabors, the Gethsemanes and the Deserts of 
human life. Priest and religious. Bishop and 
nun, are not abhorred or satisfied lives that 
seek refuge, or that ask for consolation ; but 
simply lives led apart, lives called into the inner 



150 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

sanctuaries of thought and work ; lives of teacher 
and seer ; of scientist and metaphysician. While 
communities that toil as one individual, toward 
some essential good, toward the higher levels of 
spiritual and intellectual life, the amelioration of 
human need in all its Protean forms. The 
meaning of the religious community is the prin- 
ciple of operation along spiritual, intellectual and 
ethical lines ; the supreme spirit of moral social 
philosophy that has been for generations, the 
lever of human society. 



CHAPTER IX 

THE SEAL OF MELCHISEDEK 

As the astronomer upon his lonely watch- 
tower, is rapt in silent contemplation, — his facul- 
ties absorbed, his senses unconscious of their 
material surroundings, until the looked-for star 
bursts upon his fascinated vision ; so on the holy 
turret of spiritual exaltation, the soul of our 
Levite keeps ceaseless vigil, his being penetrated 
by deep and awful expectations of the tremen- 
dous hour when the golden paten shall shine be- 
fore him, and the mighty words shall thrill his 
senses ; — " Thou art a priest forever according to 
the order of Melchisedek." 

Around the young subdeacon the tides of a 
new and alien life are sweeping ; but in the high 
solitude of his spirit is heard no sound of their 
flowing and, except for the simple preparation 
necessary for his ordination, the son of Lavaudieu 
pays little heed to his environments. With the 
simplicity of heart to which all things have been 

151 



152 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

promised in the " Sermon on the Mount," Louis 
Yally, accompanied by M. Yigue, a young Levite 
attached to the cathedral, was wont to go in 
these dream-like days before his ordination, to 
the school of the Brothers of the Sacred Heart, 
at Devereaux Hall. There, seated upon the 
benches with the little urchins of the first reader 
class, the grown up students would con the 
monosyllables of the English language with an 
avidity and lack of self-consciousness that taught 
their little schoolmates nobler lessons than any 
in the text-book. The great things of life lie so 
close beside the simple ones, or rather should it 
be said, great things are ever simple by their na- 
ture. An exalted life is like a diamond, — capa- 
ble of reflecting all the hues of its environment, 
but remaining always pure and clear. But the 
period allotted to the study of the classical pupils 
at Devereaux was too brief for genuine progress 
in the tongue of the Anglo-Saxon. Every dawn 
and sunset brought the supreme day nearer ; and 
our Levites dwelt in its shadows as in a sacred 
cloister. The order of subdeacon received at Le 
Buy, has already marked them men apart ; and 
on the twentieth of December, 1868, a solemn 



THE SEAL OF MELCHISEDEK. 153 

and quiet ceremony makes the young exiles, 
deacons of the Church, successors of those strong 
ones upon whom the Apostles laid hands and 
anointed unto martyrdom. And, after the power 
of deaconship had descended upon them, there 
came a sweet and gracious time, — a time when 
the Spirit brooded over them ; a season of inspir- 
ation and of profound significance. At the core 
of the ethics of the human mind, having its 
origin and necessity in the fundamental need of 
the nature of man, may be read the philosophy 
of the spiritual meditation, or communion pre- 
scribed by Eoman Catholic law for those about 
to enter her priesthood, or to take any step of 
unusual import. ISTo practice of a merely ascetic 
nature is this : but an obligation in accordance 
with the dictates of the profoundest psychology. 
In the evenings of Paradise, Adam walked with 
God, Abraham communed with Jehovah before 
every momentous act of his life, — before striking 
his tent upon the plain of Haran, before the 
crucial test with Isaac. Isaiah and the Man of 
Uz made solitary meditations ; John dwelt in the 
wilderness before his life of ministry : and the 
Supreme Philosopher gathered in His high com- 



154 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

munions with the Father amid the solitude of the 
desert, the strength that has made strong the 
spiritual sinews of the universe. And from the 
time when Moses sought the mountain, and Bud- 
dha Gautama, the wilderness ; to the present day 
solitary meditations of Edison and Marconi, the 
saint, seer, and scientist of every generation have 
drawn their spiritual and mental virility from 
silence and seclusion, l^o prophet sees a vision, 
no great work is conceived, no mighty scheme 
solved by poet or politician, but in the still re- 
treats of uninterrupted meditation. Retreat ! 
well is the name bestowed. Eetreat into the 
fastnesses of the spirit ; retreat into the sanctum 
of the mind, — the Patmos of the heart ; retreat 
from the false to the true ; from shadows unto 
the light ; from Jerusalem to Tabor. The 
twenty-first of December, the day of days, dawns 
with regal pomp of rose and gold. The frost has 
laid her white kiss upon all things, as though in 
pure preparation for the glorious ceremony, and 
the atmosphere sparkles with myriad crystals like 
a finely woven web of glass. To the young 
Levites, and especially to Louis Tally, an electric 
thrill seems to tingle through all things, sending 



THE SEAL OF MELCHISEDEK. 155 

a fine exhilaration through brain and heart and 
sinew, charging the eager spirit with keen en- 
thusiasm caught from the seventh Heaven. 
Eestlessness, trepidation, intense longing, and 
nervous anticipation have consumed the peasant 
Lavaudieu for many days ; but now that the su- 
preme moment draws nigh, the tremendous crisis 
approaches, a calm out of the Great Spirit begins 
to gather around his soul, all great emotions are 
silent ; supreme strength, is still ; the deep waters 
of nature and of spirit do not ripple; — the 
strength of the seraph and the sleeping sea, of 
birth and death, of exceeding joy and of deep 
woe, is silent. And so, with steady tread upon 
this, the morning of his ordination, when St. 
Mary's Cathedral is robed in a garment of light, 
Louis Yally takes the solemn steps that transport 
him from the court of the Levite into the Holy 
of Holies. Xo tremor passes over his hands as 
he places them in those of the noble prelate, — 
because of whose plea he has left his far-off 
native land — and vows unquestioning obedience 
to his will. Slowly, the tremendous rite moves 
on. A mystical moment comes, when Bishop, 
clergy and congregation, — aye, even the earth 



156 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

itself — seem to vanish from the sight of the 
Yallj^s' son, and the lights upon the altar to 
mingle and merge into the light upon the sea of 
glass. The Heavens seem to open and a won- 
drous vision to unveil unto his spirit. Hark ! — a 
burst of harmony ! is it the choir's glad hosannas, 
or does an earth-caught echo of the sevenfold 
angel chorus mingle with the Church's alleluias ? 
If amid the uncreated bliss that beats upon 
the foundations of the Throne, a single sinner do- 
ing penance, a single sigh of some returning 
wanderer, creates new thrills of ecstasy, and 
lends a gladder note to the jubilate of the blest ; 
what waves of rapture roll through Heaven 
when a son of Adam puts on the armor of Christ, 
a creature of the dust the panoply of the Trin- 
ity, a human soul the order and mystic powers 
of the priesthood! Gaze Upon the scene, ye 
seraphim ; let the hot flames of your rapture 
leap still higher. Consider this spectacle, ye 
strong archangels ; now does your strength seem 
weakness in comparison with the strength given 
unto the earth child, to take such a step. Gaze 
on this ceremony, ye Choirs, and Thrones, and 
Principalities, and Powers ; now does the blaze 



THE SEAL OF MELCHISEDEK. 157 

of this man's predilection, dim the glory of your 
mighty predilection. Let all Prophets, all Mar- 
tyrs, and the countless armies of white-robed 
saints and virgins be still for very wonder; let 
all the heavenly instruments, the royal harps, be 
silent in the presence of such glory, such mystery, 
such majesty as this. And from the heart of 
silence, from the throne of the Father, comes a 
voice ; let all spirits hear : — " Behold^ hefore the 
earth was made, have I chosen Him.''^ Softly, by 
the trembling voice of the Bishop, by the solemn 
responses of the assisting priests, by the exultant 
praises of the cathedral choir, our Levite is re- 
stored to consciousness of the wonderful rite. 
The majestic ceremony proceeds ; the Chalice of 
Salvation is placed in the hands of Louis Yally. 
A strong, sweet love surges over his heart, beats 
like great waves upon his spirit ; but, — for one 
inscrutable instant, at the zenith of the soul's 
transfiguration, the son of the human feels his 
heritage of frailty, and the Exile's heart claims 
its own ! During a brief, terrible moment, a 
consciousness of isolation, a yearning for home, 
steeps his soul in agony. A swift vision of the 
cottage at Lavaudieu, of the dear ones by its fire- 



158 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

side, the hearts he is abandoning forever, and 
abandoning beneath a shadow, the shadow of 
apparent ingratitude, of seeming neglect — sweeps 
over him. For a lightning-like span of time, the 
Levite becomes the shepherd once more; the old, 
joyous days in Ardeche, the emerald pastures, 
the white flock upon the hills, rise like a mirage 
upon his vision. It is the death-struggle of self, 
the expiring sob of egoism. Measured by human 
time, the period of his anguish has been imper- 
ceptibly brief ; none have dreamed of his travail ; 
no pause has been made in the sacred rite ; yet 
the spirit of Louis Yally has won a supreme vic- 
tory, and arises, phoenix-like, from the flame of 
its trial, free with the perfect freedom born only 
of the fire. Again the candidate is absorbed in 
the sublime ceremony, a slight pallor whitens his 
brow, but the heart of the youth has become the 
heart of the priest, the priest forever, according 
to the order of Melchisedek. The climax of 
emotion in the heart of the Yallys' son is passed ; 
the zenith of the glorious ceremonj^ has been 
reached, and now the rite flows calmly on to- 
ward its conclusion. Another organ burst of 
triumph and — all is over. The choir's loud paean 



THE SEAL OF MELCHISEDEK. 159 

follows the worshipers from the blazing cathedral 
to the December streets : — 

" Holy God we praise Thy name 
Lord of all, we bow before Thee ; 
Our on earth Thy sceptre claim, 
All in Heaven above adore Thee. 
InjQnite Thy vast domain, 
Everlasting is Thy name." 

Outside the walls of St. Mary's, the daily life 
of the little town goes on as usual. The subdued 
congregation pass slowly into the streets, but the 
tear-filled ej^es are soon dried by the inexorable 
demands of the routine of existence. They have 
stood on Tabor, but they dwell in Jerusalem, 
and the mart and the highways will swallow 
them once more. But the soul of Louis Tally, 
borne by the mighty hand of Ordination up the 
Holy Mountain, stands upon the height face to 
face with the Vision ever more. Almost uncon- 
sciously, the new made priest pauses an instant 
in the sacristy, as he does so, a voice as from a 
great distance is borne unto him : — " Father, give 
me your blessing." With a start, Louis Yally 
becomes conscious of his surroundings. " Fa- 
ther!" how dear the word, how sacred the title 



160 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

for which he has longed, for which he has re- 
nounced all others, for which he has left home 
and dear ones and country, for which he has 
abandoned all save sacrifice ! But the thrill of 
pleasure is soon succeeded by one of bewilder- 
ment, and the hot blood leaps from the heart of 
the son of the Tally s and dyes his cheek and 
neck and brow, for kneeling before him is the 
venerable Bishop of ]N^atchez. The young priest 
stretches out his hands to raise him but the prel- 
ate waves them aside. 

''!N'ay, your Lordship," the voice of Louis 
Yally is broken with embarrassment, " I am not 
worthy ; rather should I ask your blessing." 
But with gentle determination Monseigneur Elder 
persists in his request, bowing his head before the 
reluctant priest. With reverence akin to awe, 
Louis Yally raises his trembling hands ; but — 
struggle as he will for self-control, he cannot, for 
very reverence, touch the beloved head before 
him. The beautiful words of the benediction 
fall brokenly from his lips ; the overwrought 
nerves give way ; the " Benedicat te " is merged 
into a sob. Lower and lower droops the young 
head, until the newly consecrated brow touches 



THE SEAL OF MELCHISEDEK. 161 

the brow of many consecrations, and, — silence 
falls between their spirits. Next morning, in 
the solemn half light of the winter dawn, Louis 
Yally utters the mighty words of his first Mass, 
amid a stillness that, — to the awestruck spirit of 
the young celebrant, seemed to extend from 
eternity to eternity, and to blot out all things 
save the mystical humanity, physical presence of 
the First Born of the Universe. Kings there are 
in the alien world, beyond the cathedral, whose 
nod sends the human brother to his death. 
Statesmen there are, whose dicta hurl kings from 
thrones and raise up princes from the dust ; but 
president or czar, emperor or king, may not 
speak such words as these to which our simple 
Ardeche peasant gave utterance in that dawn 
hour. Such thoughts as these flashed with 
meteor like rapidity through the awe-filled mind 
of the newly anointed. Truly, the lowly has 
been exalted, the servant has become the master, 
the voice that erstwhile led the white flock upon 
the Ardeche meadows, now speaks its mandate 
to the Lord of Lords ! 

Soon, the Sabbath-day Tvill dawn again ; and 
among the newly ordained priests there is much 



162 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

speculation as to which of their number will be 
selected to sing the High Mass in St. Mary's 
Cathedral. The question is decided by Mon- 
seigneur Elder, who enters the room where 
the young men are assembled, and announces 
in his genial way : — " Father Yally, the last 
in the order of the alphabet shall be the 
first; you will chant High Mass to-mor- 
row." 

Memories of the beautiful voice that had sanc- 
tified and glorified those wonderful nights at sea, 
remain in the heart of the Mississippi Bishop ; 
aud before the son of his soul should depart for 
his eastern mission, his voice must be heard in 
the sanctuary of St. Mary's. Here, then, is an- 
other test of the young Yally, but the son of 
Simon meets it bravely. During the early parts 
of the service, nervousness threatens to master 
him ; but as the Sacrifice approaches, and the 
harmonies deepen, all his self-consciousness is 
merged within them, and lifted upon the glorious 
Avings of melody, his spirit stands before its 
King. The youth of Lavaudieu, the neotype, the 
newly ordained, has been annihilated and in his 
place is the mediator, the Aaron, the intercessor, 



THE SEAL OF MELCHISEDEK. 163 

the seer. His soul is lost in unfathomed seas of 
glory, and echoes of uncreated harmony mingle 
with the rhapsody of the Preface. Intense 
silence reigns throughout the church, as the 
magnificent chant roils on, gathering the spirit 
of the worshipers upon its waves and plunging 
them into depths of melody. The Spirit of 
Prayer descends into the midst of the congrega- 
tion, fills sanctuary and nave with her presence, 
gathers every heart in a close embrace. Unfurl- 
ing her holy wings, she broods above the people. 
At the Ite missa est the worshipers are still 
conscious of her influence; the benediction of 
music lingers like a halo round their souls, and 
every joy filled spirit chants with the Koyal 
Minstrel: — "One thing have I desired of the 
Lord, that will I seek after ; that I may dwell in 
the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to 
behold the beauty of the Lord and to enquire in 
His temple." No spirit that dwells in the man- 
sions of the King stands so near the Throne as 
the sacred Spirit of Music; her whisper is the 
key-note of creation ; and down the ages of the 
Christian era the Eoman Catholic Church has 
led the Spirit through the world, to exalt and 



164 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

purify the nations, and has been the supreme 
Source from which has flowed the master har- 
monies of the race. Music is ordained priestess 
of her sacrifice ; and from her Gregorian chant 
the great reformer Pales trina to the eagle flights 
of Mozart, or Mendelssohn, of Beethoven or 
Gluck, of Haydn or Don Perosi, the supreme 
artists of nigh two thousand years have drawn 
their inspirations from the Mass. In the after- 
noon of the Sabbath consecrated by the solem- 
nization of his first High Mass, when the ruby 
light of the afterglow streams like a banner 
across the path of the Exile, Louis Yally bids 
another farewell to Monseigneur Elder and to the 
comrades of his youth, now, Father Chevalier and 
Father de Mourenger. This time another dear, 
if new found friend must be left behind, — one 
whose uplifting influence has been a potent 
factor in the evolution of the character of the 
Yallys' son — namely, M. Yigue of St. Mary's 
Cathedral. The heart of the young Yally is a 
Miserere as he sets forth for the little mission at 
Meridian. Sweet voices of the Invisible sing no 
longer to his spirit ; only beneath the blood red 
banner in the west, a mournful wind arises from 



THE SEAL OF MELCHISEDEK. 165 

the Mississippi. And the voice of his spirit ex- 
claims : — " My flesh and my heart faileth, but 
God is the strength of my heart and my portion 
forever." 



CHAPTER X 

GETHSEMAISTE 

"My sea-chest cannot be found, Bishop, and 
the boat leaves in forty minutes ! " exclaims the 
agitated voice of Louis Yally, as he rushes rather 
unceremoniously into the library of the prelate. 
A smile, half sorrowful, half humorous, creeps 
over the countenance of Monseigneur Elder, as he 
answers with twinkling eye, but serious tone : — 
" ISTever mind, my son, you will have no place to 
put it." A responsive smile leaps to the face of 
the young priest as his keen sense of humor 
grasps the situation. It is soon succeeded, how- 
ever, by an expression of deep melancholy, as 
the mournful significance of the words is real- 
ized by mind and heart. No place for his simple 
possessions, the meagre outfit that itself had 
seemed inadequate for his needs ! No resting- 
place for the wardrobe, no resting-place for the 
man ! And for the first time the full significance 
of the missionary life is born within his spirit. 

i66 



GETHSEMANE. 16Y 

It is as though a great flash-light had been turned 
upon him. A slight return of the old terror 
seems about to seize him, but, like a ministering 
angel, comes the virile thought, " This is, indeed, 
the life of the Master, the fate of the supreme 
Missionary of the world." Truly, "the foxes 
have holes, the birds of the air have nests," but 
the followers of the Son of Man, like their 
Leader, have frequently, no place to lay their 
heads. Scarcely a moment passes while these 
stormy, conflicting emotions sweep through the 
soul of the missionary ; but an hour later, when 
the young soldier of the Light paces the deck of 
the Mississippi steamer, a new firmness is in his 
tread, a new, and almost martial dignity in his 
carriage. The soldier has heard the trumpet 
call, and will go forth to death or victory; it 
may be to victory through death. 

The fading sunset lights, like retreating spirits, 
still move over the waters of the great river, as 
the packet glides between the hoary shores, 
making graceful headway for the town of Yicks- 
burg, where our traveler will reach the nearest 
railway to the little station, "Sahwache," now 
the prosperous town of Meridian. The majestic 



168 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

hills and wooded lowlands of Mississippi — in the 
early thirties — lifted their virgin forests, and 
held their immemorial solitudes un violated, ex- 
cept at long intervals, by the iron fetters and 
fiery breath of railroad and locomotive. And 
the traveler from point to point in the state was, 
at that period, forced to make great detours in 
order to obtain the means of transportation to 
his destination. 

Again, while the heavily-freighted packet 
moves slowly up-stream, Louis Yally is brought 
face to face with a mighty monument, a new 
and wonderful aspect of that nature to which, 
in all times and places, his spirit gives a respon- 
sive thrill. To the youth accustomed to the tiny 
streamlets of the French provinces, to the silver 
Saone, the tiny Dore, and later to the unmajestic 
and polluted Seine, the voyage upon the great 
" Father of Waters " brings a revelation of the 
Creator and His mighty ways, scarcely less affect- 
ing than the message of the sea. 

Along the solemn shores, the funeral cortege 
of the moss-draped forests seems to glide in end- 
less succession. From the jagged clefts of the 
hills, and the barren, storm-bared summits, skele- 



GETHSEMANE. 1G9 

ton-like trees stretch forth their sinister arms 
like wraiths of the dark and daring race whose 
war-whoop rang along its waters from Lake 
Itasca to the Gulf. Relentless, resistless, all- 
compelling, the terrible river unrolls its sullen 
length, levelling the immemorial hills, and build- 
ing the reedy isles like a blind Titan in his sport. 
The majesty, the desolation of the Western 
World, — God's latest gift to the sons of men, — 
the power and the pity of it — the vast, unin- 
habited savannas, the beautiful and treacherous 
swamps — torture the overwrought nerves of the 
young missionary with an oppression that is 
almost suffocation. At twilight, a dense fog, the 
evil spirit of the waters, spreads her guilty wings, 
entombing land and river in a weird and awful 
winding sheet. To the unaccustomed eyes of the 
son of France, a mighty shroud seems to have 
fallen between the heavens and the earth, and 
the shrill shriek of the whistle to be the voice of 
some desolate soul. Gradually, the depression 
deepened ; and it is with a feeling akin to relief, 
that Louis Yally accepts the kindly invitation of 
the captain to descend into the cabin : " The 
malaria is in the air, sir; and foreigners are 



170 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

ready victims." The malaria ! — what is that ? 
He has heard of the ghastly yellow fever that 
makes corpses of strong men in a few short 
hours, but its power is intermittent, and men 
have respite ; but the malaria ! Here is another 
and more insidious foe ; another demon of sick- 
ness waiting to clutch the eager heart of the 
Christian soldier, and strangle its holy energies. 
Here is an enemy with which the exile is power- 
less to contend. Not the heroic sacrifice, the 
swift death of the yellow fever, then — heaven 
and the palm branch ; but the slow torture when 
.the enfeebled frame and the paralyzed will drag 
on their ghastly life from month to month, some- 
times from year to year. That is a condition 
the ardent spirit of the son of Lavaudieu has not 
considered ; and the horror of it seizes upon his 
young frame sending a strong shudder through 
all his members, as though the ghastly fever 
in reality preyed upon his vitals. Outside, the 
pallid, fog-muffled night comes down. Within 
him, a deeper night is gathering. Pressing his 
hand upon his breast, to still the rapid beating 
of his heart, his touch comes in contact with a 
bulky envelope, and he is reminded of the letter 



GETHSEMANE. lYl 

with the foreign postmark that was handed him 
in the morning ; it was from Lavaudieu, and he 
could not bear to read it until he could find some 
time and place of uninterrupted solitude. Dis- 
engaging himself as soon as possible, from the 
bluff, but kindly converse of the captain, Louis 
Vally seeks his cabin, and, seating himself upon 
the little berth, eagerly scans the familiar hand- 
writing. It is from the mother, the good Marie. 
The eyes of the young priest travel hungrily 
over the lines ; the Bishop's message must have 
reached Lavaudieu before their letter was writ- 
ten ; surely, les hons jparents must have known 
by that time that he was a priest. All the dis- 
appointment, the sorrow, is at an end, and words 
of love and praise are contained within their 
message ; — words of love for which he craves 
because he is a son, and more the son because 
the priest ; words of commendation for which he 
longs, because he is a man full of the vigor and 
hope and eagerness of young manhood. But, as 
though in mockery, the startling shriek of the 
fog-whistle, like fiendish laughter, falls harshly 
upon his strained senses now in sudden, rude 
reaction ; for written many times in the well- 



172 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

beloved characters of Mere Marie, come the 
words of disappointment, of condemnation, al- 
most of denunciation ! No ; the Bishop's letter 
has not reached them : they still believe him 
truant ; even evil ; a serpent that has stung the 
hand that nourished it ; — that worst and basest 
of creatures, a graceless and ungrateful son, 
" Mon Dieu ! " the sharp cry rings out upon the 
gloom, startling the night guards. " Mon Dieu ! " 
The young missionary has entered his Geth- 
semane. It is the ultimate cry of the spirit for 
aid, the supreme abandonment of heart and of 
mind. Almost stifling beneath the strong agony 
of his emotions, he throws open the little door 
that leads on deck. The leaden fog draws its 
winding sheet about him. ]^ot a star can 
struggle through the white shroud of its weav- 
ing ; the strongest planet is powerless, and the 
moon sheds only a sepulchral luminance. "'Mon 
Dieu ! " but this time in calmer tones ; now, — so 
low, the words are scarcely whispered, " E'ot my 
will, but Thine be done." And out of the gloom 
of night and of spirit, bright angels come and 
minister unto him, the beautiful kindred angels 
of Peace and of Besignation. With a wordless 



GETHSEMAXE. 173 

prayer, the exile casts himself upon the little cot 
in his stateroom. Night has waned during his 
anguish, and when Louis Tally, awaking from a 
brief, dreamless sleep, looks out over the river 
once more, dawn is lifting her triumphant ban- 
ners in the East, and the fog, like an iridescent 
bridal veil, is floating back from the virgin fore- 
head of the day. Yicksburg, upon her undulat- 
ing hills, rises mirage-like beneath the shim- 
mering vapors, and resembles a great river bird, 
spreading her white wings for flight. At the 
wharf, the missionary leaves the packet, and 
seeks the presbytery and the kindly hospitality 
of Rev. Francis Xavier Leray. A few hours 
later Louis Yally finds himself aboard the " Ala- 
bama and Yicksburg " train, starting on the 
(then) nine hours' journey to Meridian. Further 
and further into the land of Dixie, while mock- 
ing-birds sing, and magnolias lift their white 
chalices above the blood-stained sod, penetrates 
the soldier of Light and Peace. Blackened, 
scarred, and devastated, the country bares its 
fetid wounds before him. In the damp, close 
atmosphere of a sullen December day, the train 
seems to move through a column of smoke — so 



174 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

closely hangs the heavy breath of the locomotive 
about the coaches. A slight shiver passes over 
Louis Yally as the train speeds through the 
rank marshes, and the shrill cries of the water- 
fowl proclaim the home of the dread malaria of 
which the captain of the packet had graphically 
warned him. 

A cheerless, sombre night is closing gloomily 
in, as the train draws up into the little station- 
house at Meridian. Dreary as the chill Decem- 
ber evening is the reeking, dimly lighted depot, 
set like the cabin of a frontiersman by the edge 
of a forest of sombre pines. Tall trees loom 
black and sinister in the sullen night, like evil 
spectres plotting the woe of the little hamlet 
that straggles westward, lifting its feeble lights 
at wide intervals upon the gloom. A harsh 
shriek from the engine and the train, like a re- 
treating monster, is swallowed up by the night ; 
and Louis Yally stands alone in the semi-dark- 
ness, straining his vision to see Eev. J. B. 
Mouton, whom he expects to meet him. Slowly, 
the little crowd of citizens that had gathered on 
the station platform, dissolve like a shadow. 
But a few loitering officials remain. These also, 



GETHSEMANE. 175 

one by one, vanish into the outer darkness, 
and the young missionary stands upon the dank 
ground, as solitary as though he were many 
miles from human habitation. The heart of 
Louis Yally becomes like lead within his bosom. 
The heavy moments pass, and still no one ap- 
pears to meet him, or to offer assistance. The 
chill of the night creeps into vein and sinew. 
"With something like a shudder, he seats himself 
upon the reeking platform, leaning his arms 
listlessly upon the rude little trunk that contains 
his scanty outfit. Uncertain what to do, or 
where to direct his steps, the rattle of dray 
wheels jolting over the uneven land, and the 
rude patois of the negro driver, brings him 
swiftly to his feet; here, at last, must be the 
means of transportation. 

By frantic gesticulation, and vociferation in 
broken French, the sable driver is induced 
to stop his shackly team. " Laws-a-massy, 
marster," ejaculates the dumbfounded African, 
" whut you doin' a settin' dar, a' dis here hour ? 
Kex' train ain't due 'fo' midnight." Almost 
executing a somersault in his grotesque efi'orts 
to make known his dilemma, and finding it im- 



176 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

possible to convey a glimmer of his desires into 
the darky's pate by means of words and mother 
French, the young missionary resorts to action, 
and grasping his little trunk, flings it upon the 
dray, then leaps nimbly beside the driver. For 
the first time, a dim comprehension of his mean- 
ing seems to dawn upon the African. 

Turning with something like indignation to 
the now triumphant missionary, he exclaims, in 
adulterated Congo : — " Dis vayhecle ain't no 
car'age for white fokes to rid' on ; yo' will please 
to get down, sah." But Louis Yally only braces 
himself the firmer against his baggage, gazing 
with affected oblivion into the distance. Be- 
holding the attitude of his would-be passenger, 
the darky folds his ebony arms with superb 
indifference and calmly seats himself upon the 
dusky platform, first loosing, wath dextrous 
hand, the dilapidated mule from the harness. 
"Dar now; I'se a nigger, is I? Yankee men 
dun set nigger free ; 'Lijah Moses Washington 
Smith take no passengers on dis here dray." 
Stolidly, as though by his cabinet fireside, the 
darky draws out his cob and begins to smoke. 
Realizing the hopelessness of the situation, the 



GETHSEMANE. 17Y 

crestfallen missionary descends ruefully from 
his perch. As he does so, 'Lijah Moses rehar- 
nesses his steed, and, having conquered in the 
skirmish, remarks with a slight attempt at con- 
ciliation : " Dar now ; yo' can leave yer trunk, 

marster, an' I'll tote it whar yo' gwine 

Whar is yo' gwine ? " " Whar " indeed ! Like 
a flash of inspiration, the parting suggestion of 
the Bishop to hunt up Mr. J. J. Shannon, in case 
of emergency, flashes upon Louis Yally : — to Mr. 
Shannon's, then, he will go at once. With 
strenuous repetitions, during Tvhich the name 
undergoes every phase of distortion, 'Lijah 
Moses is made to comprehend. " Law ! " the 
voice of the prophet's namesake is saturated with 
supreme disgust, " Yo' means Marse Shannon ! 
'Cose I knows Marse Shannon; don't eberybody 
know Marse Shannon? And ain't I seed him 
ebery bressed day sence I was knee high to a 
goslin ? Just come along, marster ; yo' can keep 
in sight ob de dray." Damp, indignant, utterly 
worn out from the unaccustomed confinement of 
the train, thoroughly saturated with the pene- 
trating cold, and feeling sharp pangs of hunger, 
from his fast since leaving Yicksburg, the dis- 



178 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

heartened missionary tramps along the inexora- 
ble road, and after a pilgrimage through what 
seems an interminable forest of pine, and an end- 
less carpet of burrs, made doubly treacherous by 
the thin ice and perforated by slough and hollow, 
the grotesque party, draggled, limp, and well- 
nigh frozen, reaches the main street of the town 
and makes its tortuous way to the residence of 
Colonel Shannon. The cheery glow of lamp and 
fire within the comfortable manse shines like the 
lights of the new Jerusalem to the exhausted 
missionary. Briefly dismissing his sable guide, 
Louis Yally presents himself to the kindly master 
of the house, and receives from him a welcome 
that will ring within his heart to the end of his 
earthly life. 

Within the roomy home, Colonel Shannon 
then the editor of the Mercury^ the village jour- 
nal, gave hospitality to his staff of clever re- 
porters. Kefreshed with the generous supper of 
their host, the jovial penmen hailed with avidity, 
the advent of this, to them, curious specimen of 
French humanity ; and to the lips of the witty 
copy-makers, leaped many a keen but kindly 
joke at the missionarj^'s expense. To the son of 



GETIISEMANE. 179 

Lavaudieu, also, the rollicking pressmen seemed 
rare mammals from the big Zoo of humanity. 
Great men and learned, he had known, but never 
men of such sharp wit and clever repartee. 
Often, in sheer confusion at their good-natured 
shafts, the young missionary hastily retired to 
his own apartment, or sought the sweet compan- 
ionship of a little son of the house with whom 
he would wander through the quaint old garden 
and, asking the term (English) for fruit and 
flower, fill the little man with wonder, that his, 
Louis Tally's, French mamma could have been 
so negligent, failing, as she did, to teach her boy 
the name of anything ! But we digress : — 

Several days of waiting amid the genial Shan- 
non family, pass by, and, one night, about the 
time of the evening meal, blufp, cheery, and much 
bespattered from a hard missionary journe}^ in 
the December woods, Kev. John Baptiste Mouton 
enters the cosy dining-room. The heart of Louis 
Yally leaps into his throat. Here, at last, is one 
to whom he can look for sympathy and guid- 
ance ; the father for whom he has yearned, a fel- 
low countryman and exile, a coworker in the 
alien fields that stretch before him. With warm 



180 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

impetuosity, the young missionary rushes for- 
ward to greet the elder priest, his soul upon his 
lips ; but something in the cool critical glance of 
Father Mouton arrests him. Flicking the mud 
nonchalantly from his missionary valise, while 
his piercing eye travels rapidly over the person 
of his young assistant, the elder priest chillingly 
remarks : — 

" Hem ! — so you are Louis Yally." " Yes ; " 
the voice of the latter sounds strained and far off 
in his own ears ; if all the snows of Mont Blanc 
had- descended upon his spirit, it could not have 
been more completely frozen within him. " This 
then," seemed to whisper a discordant voice 
within him, " is the end of it all ; all the waiting, 
the yearning, for one who would speak the dear 
familiar tongue, a comrade whose spirit would 
respond to his spirit, whose heart would answer 
to his heart. The old, terrible depression surges 
over him ; — the missionary stands alone with his 
fate. 

After his keen surveillance, that seemed end- 
less to the heavy heart of Louis Yally, Father 
Mouton speaks for the second time : — " Well, eat 
your supper ; I'll see you afterward." 



GETHSEMANE. 181 

Eesuming his place at the table, the young 
Tally, almost crushed with disappointment, but 
nerving himself to preserve a manly dignity, 
forces himself to partake of the food before him ; 
but, because of the tumultuous condition of his 
mind, every morsel inflicts a deadly nausea. As 
the trying meal draws to an end. Father Mouton 
beckons the young man to follow him, and, re- 
luctantly, Louis Yally enters the private apart- 
ment of the veteran missionary. Scarcely is the 
door closed behind them, when, to the extreme 
amazement of the younger priest, the elder opens 
wide his arms, after the tender manner of the 
French, and clasps his trembling assistant close 
to his heart. " It was to try you, my son, and 
to know your metal," says Father Mouton, when 
his deep emotion allows him to speak. " You 
are made of the right stuff, and you will never 
want a friend while John Baptiste Mouton is 
alive." 

And he never did ; in all the stern sweet years 
that followed, the friendship of that noble priest 
proved a light, an inspiration, and a guidance to 
the son of Lavaudieu. 

Next morning, in the gray of the December 



182 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

dawn, Louis Yallj entered, for the first time, the 
little church that then constituted, in Meridian, 
the sole abode of the King of Kings. In the 
small, bare building, burdened with heavy debt, 
no shining vestment, no altar service awaited 
the celebrant. When one of the Lord's anointed 
would fain offer the sacrifice of Melchisedek, he 
must be supplied with sacred vessels, etc., from 
the homely contents of his little missionary 
valise. Built in 1867, by the heroic efforts of 
Father James A. Bennett, who was removed to 
other fields before the completion of the build- 
ing, the little Meridian church passed to John 
Baptiste Mouton, who assumed the almost hope- 
less responsibility of liquidating its debt. As 
the day advanced, the unintercepted rays of the 
sun poured relentlessly through the unshuttered 
windows, and rested upon the bare, whitewashed 
walls with an almost blinding fervor. Stern, re- 
lentless Poverty, drew her harsh outlines upon 
all things; and from the rude altar, fashioned 
by the anointed hands of Father Mouton him- 
self, to the crude and comfortless benches that 
did duty for pews, Want seemed to glare with 
searching and merciless eye. The dreariness 



GETHSEMANE. 183 

and pathetic need of the little sanctuary pierced 
to the quick the soul of the youthful celebrant, 
the strong and terrible hand of Destitution 
seemed to clutch his heart, to paralyze his ener- 
gies, to kill his aspirations. But the emotion 
was but momentary ; swiftly as it came the in- 
sidious temptation passed. And as the tremen- 
dous Eite moved on to its consummation, and 
the Royal Guest came out upon the wooden 
altar, a glory fell upon the homely church, sur- 
passing the transcendent splendors of the Temple 
on Mount Zion; and, as though a seraph had 
touched his soul with living fire, the majesty and 
strength and power of the supreme truth that 
the Creator needs not the created ; spirit needs 
not the dust; the Word needs not the shadow ; 
was burned with deathless characters upon the 
intellect of the new made priest. 

" Be still, and know that I am God." 
Chanted by the voices of the Invisible, the pro- 
found mandate seemed to fill the little building. 
Raising his hands to bless the people, the eyes of 
the young missionary rested for the first time 
upon the little band, some forty earnest worship- 
ers, who then represented the Roman Catholic 



184 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

congregation in Meridian. Despite the sharp 
cold of the earlj morning, those men and women 
had assembled from the village and its suburbs, 
for the great Sacrifice, could, at that time, be 
offered only at intervals. And in the brief mo- 
ment of that benediction, the heart of Louis 
Yally went out to the people, who in future 
years, became his people indeed; heart of his 
heart, flesh of his flesh, through sorrow and suf- 
fering, through struggle and privation, through 
toil and trial, through life, and in death. 

A few days later, when Father Mouton leaves 
him, going forth to pursue his missionary labors, 
Louis Yally becomes an inmate of the home of 
Mr. Bernard Daly, one of Meridian's most re- 
spected citizens. 

There, under the kindly tutelage of his gener- 
ous host, the young Frenchman attained his 
first knowledge of the English language. Pre- 
vious to his departure, Eev. John Baptiste Mou- 
ton placed in the hands of his new assistant a 
map of the missions in old Mississippi that were 
to be his (Louis Yally 's) especial charge. And 
as the sun of the old year sets in a cloud of crim- 
son glory, the young missionary stands face to 



GETHSEMANE. 185 

face with his life-work, alone, at last, with his 
future and his God. 

Deep lines of sombre purple are drawn across 
the West, — sinister bars that shut the glory in ; 
but, radiant and holy and prophetic, the evening 
star comes out upon the East. 



CHAPTER XI 

VIA CEUCIS 

Across the great region of East Mississippi, 
in the year 1869, the forest primeval marshaled 
its solemn armies of imperial oaks and noble 
pines, its serried ranks broken anon, by marsh 
and prairie, and, — at wide intervals, by the little 
hamlets whose peaceful smoke ascended amid the 
clearings, like a Christian's prayer from the un- 
couth toil and rude environments of daily life. 
Chubuta, Enterprise, Winchester, Marion, Buc- 
catunna ; within the state, and York Station and 
Greensborough, Alabama, to which by request 
of Bishop Quinlan, the labors of our missionary 
were extended, were divided from each other 
by almost impenetrable woods, and dangerous 
swamps, w^hich, in many instances, forced the 
traveler to dismount from his horse and journey 
on foot for many leagues. The rifle of the trap- 
per and the ax of the pioneer w^ere still at work, 
molding the virgin life of forest and prairie into 

i86 



VIA CRUCIS. 187 

the mature conditions of our twentieth century 
civilization. In the dense undergrowth of those 
primeval woods, the wildcat reared her danger- 
ous progeny, and in the seemingly limitless 
swamps, the moccasin and rattlesnake made 
their cozy beds beneath the pale canopy of the 
lilies that, like baleful Circes, lured the hapless 
pilgrim on to his destruction. Earely, in those 
vast and silent solitudes, did a spring of pure and 
life sustaining water gush from the hidden foun- 
tains of the soil, and offer its crystal benediction 
to the pilgrim ; and upon the delusive bayous 
that threaded the prairies, a thin green slime 
wove its baleful meshes, and a faint blue vapor 
arose at nightfall, — the deadly exhalation of the 
malaria within. By day, for league upon league, 
no sound reached the ear of the traveler, save 
the solemn voices of the pines, the calls of the 
wild birds, and, at intervals, a faint rustle in 
tangle or cane-brake, and the low, venomous hiss 
which betokened the presence of the poisonous 
reptile. By night, from a thousand unseen cav- 
erns, the fierce, untamed monarchs of the soli- 
tude would issue, and the weird bay of the wolf 
would fill the dark with a thousand terrors ; and 



188 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

anon — if the weary pilgrim has let his watch-fire 
grow dim, a pair of glowing eyes would peer 
through the branches, and the stealthy tread of 
the unknown foe, sound dull and sinister upon 
the night. And whether in the wild, free morn- 
ings, when the sunlight splintered into a thou- 
sand gems against the trembling leafage, and 
mossy tree trunks, or in the solemn nights, when 
the mournful presence of the moon transformed 
the wilderness, lifting the pine crests unto the 
heavens, dropping a nameless spell upon prairie 
and marsh-land, — even the Spirit of Solitude kept 
her holy vigil, and all animate and inanimate 
nature owned her sovereign queen. Like a great 
archangel from the flaming altar of the East, 
robed in fire, and crowned with glory, rose the first 
sun of the New Year, — when our young mis- 
sionary, his soul likewise "afire with God," 
leaves the little village of Meridian to answer a 
summons in the hamlet of Paulding. Keacbing 
Enterprise by the Mobile and Ohio railroad, a 
rough wagon was his only means of transporta- 
tion for the weary miles of uneven country that 
intervened between Enterprise and his place of 
destination ; and not until the freezing night 



VIA CRUCIS 189 

had begun to chain all things with her icy fet- 
ters, did our dauntless pilgrim reach the little 
hamlet, and thus complete his first day's journey 
upon the Eoyal Way, — in which, with brave 
heart and unflagging step, he was destined to 
walk beside the Master. 

Without pausing to take some sorely needed 
refreshment, the son of the Yallys hastens to the 
bedside of an aged woman, a veritable mother in 
Israel, whose life flame burns so low that the 
great central fire of God and of Eternity threaten 
to engulf it. There, in a lonely cottage on the 
edge of the hamlet, while the solemn forest keeps 
silent sentinel, and the majesty of the night, 
broken only by the fitful candle-light, enfolds 
and consecrates the lowly place, the new made 
priest, with the oil of ordination scarcely dry 
upon his palms, for the first time anoints a fellow 
being with the blessed unction that, — like a 
sweet night flower, will make fragrant all the 
Valley of the Shadow. Thrilling with the con- 
sciousness of abounding physical vigor, and the 
transcendent energies born of contact with the 
life imparting Sacrament, a great tenderness for 
the fading form upon the couch, a measureless 



190 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

pity for the sons of Adam, by Adam doomed to 
die the death, surges over the young missionary, 
sweeping away the barriers of his tears ; and the 
brow of the newly anointed priest bends low 
above the couch, and the youthful head nearly 
touches the gray one, as the bed becomes the 
bier, and the Christian spirit awakes into the 
Light that casts no shadows and that knows no 
night. 

From the death-bed of the venerable woman 
to the Fount of Living Waters, the son of Lavau- 
dieu passes with swift, but natural transition. 
An infant is to be baptized, a tiny babe new-born 
within the hamlet. And between death and 
life, and life and death, the soul of the mis- 
sionary vibrates with keen emotion and with 
kindled understanding, from the death of the 
body the more abundant life of the spirit ; from 
the death of primal evil, the life of the regenera- 
ted soul. 

The little church of St. Michael's is very still 
within ; — so still the voice of the Spirit is almost 
heard, as Louis Yaliy pours the mystic waters, 
and, with reverence akin to fear, bends low, and 
kisses the still moist cheek of the little white- 



VIA CRUCIS. 191 

robed babe. Tiny, weak and helpless this, 
great, and strong and of wonderful power in 
that other world, which, — when the firmament 
shall perish, and the constellations return into the 
womb of Chaos, will never pass away. 

Forgetful of his great fatigue, the young priest 
walks down the shadowy aisle and kneels before 
the altar, where the fitful glimmer of the sanc- 
tuary lamp drops ruby stains that, to the kindled 
spirit of the missionary look like the Blood of the 
Lamb he has so freely poured since his arrival in 
the village. 

" Life and death ! " murmurs Louis Tally, 
" life and death ! Life is death, and death is 
life; we mistake substance for the shadow ; we 
love the shadow for the substance. Oh ! Life 
of all life, give us life more abundantlj^ ; grant, 
indeed, that in Thee, we may live." 

And having thus communed with the Great 
Presence, the missionary arises, and passes 
through the dusky sacristy unto the holy silence 
of the night. 

In the long, chill months that follow the first 
exercise of his functions as missionary in the lit- 
tle hamlet of Paulding, Louis Yally threads, on 



192 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

horseback, sometimes, but more frequently on 
foot, the immense areas of forest and morass that 
checker the territory under his care. Armed 
with his little missionary valise, and a homely 
staff, his sole defense against the unknown dan- 
gers of the wilderness, the glory of the rising sun 
rests frequently upon his brow like a visible ben- 
ediction, and the light of its setting kindles a 
glory about his tired feet ; unrolling a golden 
path that seems to lead to the mansions of the 
King, the home and goal of his dauntless spirit, 
the only resting place his heart can know. 

Only at great distances apart, the home of a 
woodsman shows its trembling light beyond the 
forest aisles ; and many miles of unbroken soli- 
tude stretch between the rude log cabins of the 
hunters upon the borders of the vast prairies. 
Food and drink are at best uncertain, and the 
pilgrim must depend for both upon the untooth- 
some store that can be kept in the tiny commis- 
sary of his little wallet. Shelter might, or might 
not be had ; and the missionary must expect none 
other than the trembling canopy of the trees and 
the fair star-gemmed coverlid of the night. 
Upon the moss-covered ridges, the tired body 



VIA CRUCIS. 193 

must snatch its restless sleep; tortured at times 
beyond endurance by the swarms of gallinipper 
mosquitoes and tormenting gnats that banished 
slumber and even put to flight the possibility of 
repose in a reclining position. After such wake- 
ful and tortured nights, the Roman Catholic 
missionary would arise at dawn and ill-nourished, 
and entirely unprotected from the elements, re- 
sume his heroic pilgrimage through the woods. 
Small wonder that youth and health and vigor 
died all too soon within them, and that many 
sleep in premature graves beneath the very forest 
trees that witnessed their long vigils ; while 
others, old men in their prime, are forced to seek 
the refuge of hospital and seminary, and die the 
death of enforced and torturing inaction. Re- 
turning in the silent night-watches from these 
painful excursions to the sites of his various mis- 
sions, Louis Yally, unwilling to arouse the kindly 
citizens of Meridian, would seek the shelter of 
the little church ; and there, on the hard, bare 
benches, but in the Royal Presence of the King, 
snatch the sleep of sheer exhaustion. When re- 
monstrated with by his warm-hearted people, 
who further insisted that his action was not rev- 



194 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

erent, hoping thereby to influence him as no per- 
sonal consideration would have done, he was 
wont to reply in the touching words of the 
saintly Bishop, " Even a faithful mastiff is al- 
lowed to sleep at the foot of his master." 

And so he slept, — the son of Lavaudieu, and 
loved best to sleep, and so he rests to-day, now 
that the long night is over, in the shadow of the 
beloved fane ; but we must not anticipate. After 
a season of weary journeyings, months during 
which the hand grew thinner that paused to 
pluck the wayside passion-flower, and pin it on 
the breast wherein another and more glorious 
passion-flower was blooming, — the baleful influ- 
ence of the miasma began to make felt its long 
defied, but restless power. Slowly but surely, 
into vein and nerve the poisonous exhalation 
crept with deadly purpose, benumbing the alert 
faculties of the missionary and breathing its evil 
gases about his heart. Gradually, the elasticity 
vanished from his step, the dauntless energy from 
his over-taxed frame. Imperceptibly at first, but 
surely, the length of the day's journey is short- 
ened. Grotesque, feverish dreams haunt the 
racked brain by night, and sometimes by day, in 



VIA CRUCIS. 195 

transient delirium, the young priest wanders 
from his path and loses himself in the dense un- 
dergrowth of the forest. Anon, — to his inflamed 
vision, the giant trees take on grotesque and sin- 
ister forms, and seem like spirits of evil striving 
to turn him aside from his life-work. The juni- 
per and grape-vines stretch their mocking arms 
across his path. The wild bird chorus becomes 
discordant, and jeer and jibe and taunt are ut- 
tered in a thousand never ceasing tones. The 
noonday sun grows lurid, and the moon takes on 
a cold, metallic glitter. Every mossy bank at- 
tracts him with almost resistless power, and the 
tall pines whisper : " Lie here, lie here, oh ! 
child of Adam ; here is rest and dreams ; — better 
still, oblivion." 

With a gesture of physical repulsion, as though 
thrusting some tangible enemy from him, the 
missionary struggles on, on through wood and 
marsh and prairie ; on, while every nerve vibrates 
with the awful tension ; on, while the deadly 
faintness creeps near, and yet nearer to the 
heart; on, while strength to drag one heavy foot 
before the other remains in the tormented frame. 

But there comes a day when, — somewhere in 



196 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the ancient wilderness, the missionary sinks be- 
side a moss-robed tree. Tiie shy squirrels peer 
curiously at the prostrate form, and a redbird 
hops confidingly upon his breast. Awaking from 
a brief oblivion, Louis Yally knows that the 
struggle can be waged no longer. With a su- 
preme effort he gathers his remaining strength 
and enters the hamlet of Marion, the lights of 
'which gleam as fireflies on the deepening twi- 
light. Instantly, his course of action is decided 
upon ; and seeking Mr. C. E. Bushing, the kindly 
vice-president of the Mobile and Ohio for aid, 
he secures transportation, and takes the first out- 
going train for Mobile, without notifying any one 
of his intention of doing so. 

Through the same delirium of fever and the 
pangs of increasing illness, the heart of Louis 
Yally is still mindful of his fellow men. Shrink- 
ing from giving inconvenience to the friends who 
would gladly have succored him in his pressing 
need, he acts in this, as in other great emergen- 
cies, promptly and alone. 

Upon arriving at Mobile, nearly unconscious, 
and scarcely able to walk, the son of Lavaudieu 
presents himself at the "Providence Infirmary," 



VIA CRUCIS. 197 

then, as now, one of the most noble institutions 
in the South. A swift expression of sympathy 
and of pity springs to the face of the Sister of 
Charity, of whom the missionary asks hospital- 
ity. As her experienced eye travels rapidly over 
the emaciated form, an almost maternal tender- 
ness creeps into her words : 

"Sit down. Father, your weakness is very 
great." And Louis Tally answers: — "I am a 
poor priest, good Sister, and I ask your charity, 
for it is likewise great." 

One month, during which the ardent soul 
almost loosed itself from the heavy trammels of 
the body ; — one month, in which, by dream and 
vision, the tired shepherd trod once more the 
sunrise pastures of Ardeche, while phantom 
sheep bells rang, and the good mother's voice 
Was heard, Louis Yally lay oblivious of his sur- 
roundings. 

But the, Master of the Vineyard awakes the 
laborer ; he must arise, go forth and tread the 
wine-press once more. Slowly, at first imper- 
ceptibly, the fever spirits withdraw their veils 
from the brain of the sufferer. Outside, the 
snowdrop and the hyacinth are lifting their 



198 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

maid-white brows to meet the blushing spring. 
The faint odor of newly turned earth is on the 
air; the first love note of the mocking-bird, 
floats sweet and clear through the big windows 
of the dormitory, open for the first time, this 
morning. Afar, the sapphire waters of the 
beautiful bay flash and flow in the virgin light, 
w^hile a flock of returning birds sails like a cloud 
athwart the fleckless heavens. And opening, 
once more, the eyes of spirit and of body, Louis 
Yally knows that the winter is past, — the spring 
has come ! 

The first conscious action of the missionary is 
to dictate these words to be forwarded over the 
wires to the Bishop of Mississippi, and to Eev. 
John Baptiste Mouton : — " Sick — chills and fever 
— am in Mobile — you will find me at the Provi- 
dence Infirmary." And the indomitable cour- 
age, the matchless decision of character, the 
strength of heart and will that inspired those 
lines, so deeply impressed the Right Reverend 
Prelate, that when his answer came to Louis 
Yally, the convalescent missionary was appointed 
pastor of Meridian. 



CHAPTER XII 

LABORARE EST ORARE 

Brave and glad is the heart of the young 
pastor, when after the years of yearning and of 
waiting, he stands at last amid his little flock. 
The son and heir of the Eternal Patriarch has 
come into his heritage ; the shepherd of Lavau- 
dieu into the great birthright of his spirit. A 
sublimer mission than that of Moses newly 
charged with the guidance of Israel's exiled 
hosts ; a nobler responsibility than Josue's, as he 
marshaled the tribesmen to do battle with the 
Gabaonites ; greater than the power of Aaron as 
he stood within the Holy of Holies. Over the 
beautiful meadows of Righteousness, where the 
golden graces grow like morning streams over 
the rugged hills of Temptation, where, in cleft 
and chasm, those same graces shine like fallen 
stars ; over the turbid torrent and the deep 
ravines of Grief ; and up the sun-crowned moun- 
tains of Joy and Inspiration ; in sunlight and in 
199 



200 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

storm, in gladness and sorrow, side by side, step 
by step with his people, the shepherd priest must 
walk ; his life merged into their lives, his heart 
into their hearts. And coming into his little 
kingdom, the spirit of Louis Yally goes out at 
once and without reserve, to the people of his 
predilection, and the new made priest is about to 
enter upon the second period of his spiritual and 
moral evolution. In the life of the wilderness, 
the rude but sweet struggle with the moods and 
powers of physical nature. Now the son of the 
Yallys goes forth to do battle with a subtler and 
more unlovely foe, — the crude conditions of life 
within a new and struggling mission. Few who 
know the little city of Meridian to-day, — its fine 
philanthropy the pride of the state, and its gen- 
erous hospitality the delight of the visitor, can 
realize that, at the period of which we are about 
to treat, the now prosperous town was little more 
than a hamlet, most of the inhabitants of \vhich, 
— great hearted people and true, found their re- 
sources taxed to the utmost to secure the daily 
necessities of life for those within the radius of 
the family circle. Especially was this true of 
the staunch and kindly men and women compos- 



LABORARE EST ORARE. 201 

ing the little Koman Catholic congregation, — 
pioneers, who, in most instances, had been led to 
the village by proffered employment upon some 
of the railroads at that time building. Notable 
exceptions, of course, existed ; and one finds, here 
and there, prosperous as well as noble minded 
progenitors of the Meridian Catholic of to-day : 
but the dominant condition of the little congre- 
gation in the year 1870, was one of respected 
and self-respecting poverty. And it is to this 
point more than any other, that the attention of 
the reader should be drawn. Priest or layman, 
chief or subaltern who may read these lines, 
know that the real hero is the man strong enough 
to stand for Truth and Eight when all the 
harpy fingers of hourly privation and of daily 
drudgery, are striving with might and main to 
tear him from his high ideal, and to wrest from 
shrinking heart and quivering nerve, a compro- 
mise with Evil. The uncrowned kings of the 
great universe ; the men of power, the real lords 
of mind and matter, are not the Gladstones nor 
the Alexanders of the race ; but the unknown 
men who fill the nameless graves after a lifelong 
and victorious battle with the petty cares and 



202 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

lowly conditions of their environment. In the 
commonplace, hard, and repugnant duties that, 
in endless succession, lacerate the heart of the 
toiler in the hidden paths of life and action, are 
the pregnant seeds from which true greatness 
springs. We look abroad for strength and power 
and all the while their sacred fountains are 
gushing at our feet : we look afar for revelations, 
and messages more glorious than Sinai's are 
graven upon our homeliest implements of toil. 
Not from the distant heaven of some yearned 
for state or office falls the real manna of the hu- 
man spirit ; but deep in the loam of the lowly 
circumstance we spurn impatiently from our 
path. The " sacrament of the present moment," 
the virile unction of each hour's lowly need, acts 
like a sacred leaven upon the soul of the young 
pastor ; permeating it, at this early period of his 
labors with the power and beauty that character- 
ized his later ministrj^ First of the homely de- 
tails, — veiled spirits of light that lead him on- 
ward, is his hand to hand struggle with debt, the 
debt upon his little sanctuary. If the undis- 
charged obligation to the fellow man torments a 
refined and sensitive nature with more than 



LABORARE EST ORARE. 203 

inquisitorial fury, with yet greater malignity did 
the debt upon his little church prey upon the 
mind and heart of Louis Yally. To his high 
strung spirit, the honor of the Master seemed 
involved, and no Ked Cross went forth to save 
the Holy Places of the East, with keener enthusi- 
asm than that which actuated our obscure Merid- 
ian pastor as he began his crusade against 
illiquidation. Clad in the armor of simplicity ; 
wearing the impregnable cuirass of humility, the 
visor of faith, and holding the invincible lance of 
prayer, steadily and surely the young knight was 
victorious ; and scarcely five years had passed 
when the last farthing of the heavy debt was 
paid, and the little fane was the unencumbered 
possession of the mission. With this weighty 
burden lifted from his heart, the ever buoyant, 
cheery nature of the son of the Yallys shed its in- 
nate brightness upon all things. The rudest cir- 
cumstance, the most painful incident, the harsh- 
est trial became transformed in the light of his 
golden spirit into a thing of mirth, or a thing of 
beauty. 

The kind-hearted mistress of the *' Jones 
House," where we find our missionary estab- 



204 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

lished at this period of his career, did what she 
could to lighten the burdens of the self-oblivious 
young priest ; and mindful, especially, of the 
Friday obligation, personally superintended the 
preparation of his diet of fish upon that day. 
The good dame did her humble best ; and 
among the memories of these early years, that 
of the kindly landlady of this primitive hostelry, 
was always dear to Louis Yally. At intervals, 
when the struggling spirit yearned for human 
sympathy, the inexperienced laborer for guid- 
ance, the Bishop of Mississippi would make his 
pastoral visits. In the tiny room at the boarding 
house, the father and son in Christ would pass 
long fruitful hours in conversation, — hours of 
pregnant and wholesome suggestion on the part 
of the elder, and of keen and eager questioning 
by the younger priest. And it often chanced in 
the homely manner of the place, that the 
boisterous, but well meaning knights of the 
road, who occupied the next compartment, 
would fling a convivial boot against the division 
wall, striving to call forth an answering saluta- 
tion from the " fellows " next door. Failing to 
do so, expressions of varied though not ill- 



LABORARE EST ORARE. 205 

natured, disgust would penetrate the thin parti- 
tion. Little wotted the boisterous revellers, 
who those irresponsive neighbors might be, or 
upon what weighty business their attention was 
engrossed. Anon, while discussing " grace " or 
" dispensation," some rap of more than wonted 
vigor, accentuated by the newest Chimmie 
Fadden English, would bring a merry smile to 
the face of Bishop and of pastor. ISTo feeling of 
resentment of the rude, but kindly folk arose in 
the spirits of either ; but the urgent necessity of 
some private spot where the business of the 
Master could be looked to in quiet, began to 
take possession of the heart of Louis Yally, and 
the idea of building a presbytery was formed by 
the young missionary. With the great Apostle, 
the son of Lavaudieu exclaimed : — '' I can do 
all things in Him who strengthens me." It is 
the war-cry of the spirit, the ''open sesame''^ to 
the treasure house of power, from St. Michael to 
Pius the Tenth, from Paul of Tarsus to Father 
Daraian, it has proved invincible. Let him who 
would achieve, cast Fear far from him, and 
trample under foot the lying form of Doubt ; — 
success must be, — nay, already is, his portion; 



206 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

"God and man together cannot fail." And 
Louis Yally did not fail. When once his mind, 
oblivious of his own comfort, was convinced that 
a presbytery would materially advance the cause 
of the King in whose high service he was en- 
listed, without a doubt, or hesitation, the young 
pastor looked again for ways and means. 
Clothing himself once more in the impregnable 
armor, our soldier goes forth to his second 
crusade. The Catholic congregration at that 
time numbered only about a hundred souls, in- 
fants included ; but the missionary, having 
sought with every faculty of his being, the im- 
perishable Kingdom of Heaven, possessed all 
things potentially, and was master, and not 
bondsman of conditions ; and fashioned in the 
higher sense, in part, by his own untiring hands, 
the little dwelling place soon arose under the 
shadow of the church of the mission. To every 
plank was nailed a sacrifice, and all the homely 
place was wrought with prayer. Two bare little 
rooms composed the domicile ; a bed, table, and 
chair, the furniture thereof. Beneath the lowly 
roof an anchorite might have felt at ease ; little 
splinters from the rude, uncovered floor be- 



LABORARE EST ORARE. 207 

tokened always the spiritual presence of the 
Cross ; and over the rude mantel, its visible 
emblem was hung, — the centre and the circle of 
the life of the young habitant. " Le grand 
Monarque " never entered his Yersailles with 
such deep delight, such pride, such glowing, 
triumphant satisfaction, as the young pastor of 
Meridian the little homestead all his own. 
There at least, though tapestry and gold were 
wanting, he could 

"Walk down the Yalley of Silence, 
Down the dim, voiceless Valley, — alone ! " 
And "hear not the fall of a footstep " around him 

" Save God's and " his own. 

During the first simple days in the little 
domicile, the proud householder was his own 
housekeeper and Abigail, as he had been his own 
sexton in his little church. Humming a French 
chanson, he did the chores right merrily ; and 
with childlike glee would sometimes laugh aloud 
to see the bright flames leap from the fragrant 
pine burrs gathered in the neighboring grove, 
and heaped in royal profusion in the little fire- 
place. Without fail, at noon and evening, and 
in the chill gray of the dawn, Louis Yally Avould 



208 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

send the message of the Angelas to the little 
town, and with it, another message, the teaching 
of his own life-work. 

And when the Sabbaths came, and the widely 
scattered members of the flock assembled in the 
simple pews to hear Low Mass, — the voice of 
music had not yet been lifted in the little fane 
because of straightened means,— and the people 
listened to the catechetical instructions of the 
young pastor, each and every one was conscious 
of the brooding presence of that Great Love of 
which the missionary told them so graphically ; 
always of love, only love ; love was his uni- 
verse, as it is the universe, the life, the strength, 
the all, of every spirit standing in the Light. 

Through the love of the Master to the love of 
the servant, by sweet and natural intuition, the 
hearts of the people began to know the heart of 
the pastor ; and the great affection for him ; — the 
love that lives at this day and will endure while 
one member of the little flock has life and mem- 
ory, awoke in the souls of his people. And love 
answered unto love, for Louis Yally bore them 
in his heart until the end. 

]S"ever a preacher, — the gift of oratory was de- 



LABORARE EST ORARE. 209 

nied him — but always a doer of the word. 
Therein lay his strength and singular magnetism. 
Growing himself into the image and likeness of 
the Master, the power of his Divine Prototype 
flowed freely through the clean channels of his 
spirit, and purified and uplifted the lives of all 
who came within his influence. 

And thus his life flows on, widening, deepen- 
ing, and bringing fertility as it flows. And it 
flows into the lives of the little children, whom 
he gathers into his catechism class, held, rain or 
shine, in the little church. Blithely, tenderly, 
the child heart of the pastor responds to the 
children's hearts around him. Here again, the 
old sweet theme, — love only, love always. Love 
God, and love each other ; that is the whole law, 
the one great sermon of the Beloved Disciple, the 
supreme message and significance of the Word. 

And each of those little ones went out with a 
new gladness about his heart, and that gladness 
made others glad, and is still rejoicing the world 
with the ever widening circles of its influence. 
After the lapse of a quarter of a century, those 
grown up little ones still remember the rapt 
look and glowing words with which the young 



210 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

missionary spoke to them of God, — bade them 
love Him, — almost made them feel Himi in their 
midst. And, despite labor and exhaustion, in all 
seasons and at any cost, that band of little ones, 
the vivandieres of the King was always assem- 
bled on the Sabbath. A catechist by grace, by 
love, he remained a catechist until the end. 

And his life flowed into the lives of the men 
and youths of the congregation ; and its swift 
and practical expression was an association known 
as " St. Patrick's Social and Benevolent Society." 
Under the tall pines opposite the church rose, as 
if by magic, a little frame building that did duty 
for library and club. Therein, — in so brief a 
period as to tax credulity, the nucleus of a library 
was collected ; and by the nature of the volumes 
placed upon the shelves the missionary instructed 
his little flock in the rationale of the religion 
they professed, as well as promoted social inter- 
course among them. 

To know not only how, but why we worship, 
not only what, but why we believe ; is the para- 
mount need of the age, a paramount obligation 
of the twentieth century American citizen ; and 
any complete worship of the Supreme Intelligence 



LABORARE EST ORARE. 211 

must unite the homage of the intellect with that 
of the heart and spirit. Upon the Koman Cath- 
olic American citizen, this duty devolves in a 
peculiar manner; and amid the conditions of 
modern civilization, the intelligent layman may 
become a more potent factor in the growth of 
Christianity than anchorite or missionary, than 
saint or seer. The present age, more than any of 
its predecessors, demands the O'Connells, and the 
Henry Grady s of Catholic Truth. The only two 
members of St. Patrick's Society who are living 
at the present writing, are Messrs. Bernard Daly 
and John Eeady, both well-known citizens of 
Meridian. The rest have passed into the higher 
life, and have joined the pastor and beloved com- 
rade of this. 

And the life of Louis Yally flowed into the 
lives of the ignorant little ones of the Kingdom. 
In no life-work illumined by the ]^on-created 
Light, can the fundamental need of education be 
ignored. In the service of Supreme Wisdom all 
available knowledge should be enlisted. Kot one 
of the Protean forms of Truth can be dispensed 
with ; not one of its hieroglyphics, though writ 
with atom or with star, should remain unread. 



212 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

In the Titanic struggle with the alien forces of 
agnosticism, it is the man of mind who does the 
virile work ; and across the Beresina of unbelief, 
brains, as well as righteousness, must bear the 
Christian standard. And thus, in the little mis- 
sion of Meridian, by the hand of Louis Yally — 
was planted the tiny seed from which, in after 
days so beautiful a fruit was destined to be gath- 
ered ; and about the year 1876, the parish school 
opened under the tutorage of Eev. Hermann 
Oberfeldt. 

It seems that just as his educational projects 
were beginning to twine themselves closer and 
closer about the heart of Louis Yally, — his strong 
desire almost crying aloud in its deep yearning 
for fulfilment. Father Oberfeldt, then an en- 
thusiastic educator newly arrived from Ger- 
many, was sent by the Bishop of Mississippi to 
aid the young Meridian pastor in his arduous 
duties. Father Oberfeldt immediately proposed 
to act as teacher in the little school, if our in- 
domitable missionary could supply the necessary 
desks and benches ; and out of his inexhaustible 
treasure house of energy and action, Louis Yally 
procured the simple furnishings. The little 



LABORARE EST ORARE. 213 

headquarters of St. Patrick's Society were made 
to do double duty ; and one sunny morning, 
when earth seemed bathed in unwonted beauty 
to the jubilant heart of the son of the Yallys, 
the little folk of the parish, proud of the glories 
of newly starched apron and sunbonnet, and 
filled with naive expectation of all the wondrous 
things that were to transpire within the school, 
gathered beneath the big pine-trees, and entered 
the rude class rooms pell-mell, when, for the first 
time, the big bell called them there. And far 
above the pines, and past the zenith blue, where 
little cloudlets skimmed like birds, the Spirit of 
Wisdom brooded on its sacred theme, and shed 
its benedictions upon the little mission school. 
After the tiny institution was well inaugurated, 
which was done by the volunteer teacher in 
about two months, he was succeeded in his ofiice 
by Miss Mary Murdock, now Mrs. McDermott of 
Water Yalley, Mississippi, a young woman rec- 
ommended by the Nazareth Sisters of Holly 
Springs, whose native force of character and 
bright personality became an important factor 
in the evolution of the Meridian mission. Not 
only did Miss Murdock win the hearts and con 



214 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

trol the minds of her plastic pupils, but her ad. 
vent inaugurated a new epoch in the history of 
the little church. Dwelling in the midst of carp- 
ing cares, leading at this time also, a life of in- 
cessant bodily labor as well as mental anxiet}^, 
the spirit of Louis Yally dwelt apart, beautiful 
and calm, unhampered, undisturbed by his phys- 
ical environment of tumult and of toil. Many 
souls can attain greatness lifted upon the mighty 
wings of solitude and of silence ; many souls 
reach the high plateaus of power and inspiration 
to whom the even tenor of their way offers no 
obstacle to strength infusing meditation, — but 
greater far the human spirit that can achieve its 
noble destiny and live its highest life in the 
midst of sordid conditions and excessive manual 
labor. The life of Louis Yally at the present 
period of his career, laying, with his own hands, 
the rude foundations of school and presbytery, 
fashioning with his own spirit, the spiritual life 
of his people ; but building also, within his indi- 
vidual soul, the imperishable temple of his high 
ideal. And his life flowed on with music. Ever, 
through spirit and mind and heart were sweet 
harmonies sounding through the being of the son 



LABOllARE EST ORARE. 215 

of Lavaudieu. That the voice of music should 
be silent in the sanctuary, while around him in 
the little town the glad hosannas of the King 
arose from worshipers in other temples became 
to Louis Yally a trial too severe to be longer en- 
dured. In this instance also, the honor of the 
Master seems involved ; and with that watch- 
word no odds can intimidate the young mission- 
ary in his hand to hand battle with circum- 
stances. Almost imperceptibly, the means to 
purchase a little cabinet organ are procured ; 
and the heart and hands that have brought a 
nobler music out of the inharmonious conditions 
of his environment, now accompany the first 
simple hymns that are sung in the little church. 
As the level raj^s of the westering sun pierce like 
glittering lances through the windows of the 
tiny sanctuary, the young pastor would seat him- 
self at the little organ, and play v^ith enthu- 
siastic delight the royal chants of the Yesper 
psalms. 

With the advent of Miss Murdock, came the 
yearned for opportunity of celebrating High 
Mass in his church, and on that first solemn and 
never to be forgotten Sabbath, the majesty, the 



216 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

power, the high exultation of the sublime ritual, 
glorified and thrilled through the voice of the 
Celebrant. With the assistance of Miss Mur- 
dock, a little choir was organized, another simple 
but sweet beginning, from which, as a rose from 
the tightly closed bud, was destined to bloom 
the subtile, but powerful influence of music in 
the midst of the little flock. 



PART III 

' For God is my King of old, working salvation in the 
midst of the earth." 



CHAPTER XIII 

A MAN OF THE PEOPLE 

The man of truth belongs to all mankind. 
Poet and prophet, philosopher and priest, are 
the common heritage of humanity, and of no 
especial age or people, disciples or denomination. 
True it is that certain miuisterial duties must be 
performed solely in behalf of their immediate 
followers, and an especial guardianship must be 
given the chosen ones more directly committed 
to their care ; but all ministry that is real must 
be universal ministry, and the true ambassador 
of the Son of Man must bound his pastorate only 
by the rising and the setting of the sun. 
Whenever, between the cradle and the grave, 
faint and toil and suffer and rejoice immortal 
spirits, there are the ripening sheaves waiting to 
be garnered for the Master's harvest-home. In 
the close press of non-conforming brethren, side 
by side with atheist and agnostic, giving the 
219 



220 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

warm hand clasp to pessimism, the fraternal 
embrace to cynic and Unitarian, the true apostle 
must be found, following step by step the foot- 
prints of the Master through the motley multi- 
tudes of Scribe and Pharisee, of Sadducee and 
idolater. Strikingly was this characteristic 
manifested in the life and work of Louis Yally 
]^ot only those directly entrusted to his spiritual 
leadership, but few men or women, irrespective 
of denomination, ever came within the radius of 
his life without yielding to its gentle magnetism. 
The true within us must ever respond to Truth. 
About the magnet of a righteous life, the needle 
of righteousness in other lives must gather. 
Truth is power ; and high ideals are strong 
archangels that control the vital elements of 
human destinies. 

Jew and Gentile, atheist and agnostic begin to 
seek the society of the young priest, to listen to 
his converse, to ask his sound advice. Often in 
the quiet evenings, the two chairs of the dwell- 
ing being occupied, the little bed does duty for 
settee. Infused with practical wisdom and true 
intuition, the modestly given counsels of the 
young pastor are seldom known to fail of 



A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. 221 

successful application ; and from his high integ- 
rity weaker spirits draw fortitude and comfort. 
Sweet and solemn scenes are often enacted within 
the little presbytery, and the waves of human 
wrong and misery, of human sin and sorrow, 
break upon its threshold, almost overwhelming, 
anon, the sympathetic heart of the young 
missionary. 

It is related of him at this time that many non- 
Catholic residents of the growing town, were 
wont to take before him any solemn pledge of 
reformation they desired to make. 

Perhaps the supreme test of a well poised 
character is found in the unpleasant encounters 
that occasionally take place between people who 
entertain different religious convictions. 

To these peculiarly trying incidents, a priest is 
even more liable than a laymen. But with a 
self mastery that disarmed the most intent, and 
a flawless courtesy that gave gentle, though posi- 
tive refutation to his antagonists, the young 
pastor of Meridian was rarely known to make an 
enemy. The Prince of the House of David was 
the arch-gentleman of the world ; and it behooves 
his anointed ministers, even more than other 



222 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

men, to practice the amenities of social inter- 
course. But not only did Louis Yally give 
strength to the hearts and light to the souls of 
his people, but, as a man among men, he was 
closely in touch with the social life of the com- 
munity, and a potent factor in all movements 
that promoted its welfare. The priest is still the 
man. I^o office, however sublime, dispenses the 
individual from the fundamental duties of man 
to man, — the unit to the human race, the citizen 
to the commonwealth. A keen realization and 
practical fulfilment of this obligation cannot be 
too seriously urged upon the clergy of all denomi- 
nations, in this twentieth century of Christian 
civilization. The binding duty imposed by social 
ethics, was uniformly observed by the young 
Meridian pastor, w^hose deepening devotion to 
the cause of humanity found no service too 
humble that would lighten the yoke of the 
brother, no mental or physical exertion too great 
to be made, if the lot of the fellow man could be 
alleviated thereby. An incident of this charac- 
teristic of Father Yally is found in the little bell 
of St. Patrick's that gave the Angelus message 
to the people, sounded also, for many years, the 



A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. 223 

fire alarm to the little community ; — both were 
rung by the hands of Louis Yally. 

After the destruction of the Phoenix Hotel, an 
old Meridian landmark, the young pastor of the 
Boman Catholic mission organized a fire com- 
pany, and became one of its most active and 
efficient members. Full of pathetic humor are 
some of the anecdotes his grateful people tell of 
the indefatigable missionary in his capacity of 
volunteer fireman. It is said, that, when the old 
Jones House, his almost tenderly remembered 
hostelry, caught fire one fierce December night, 
Louis Yally, in his supreme desire to save the 
manse, slipped on the icy roof, and plunged 
headlong into a barrel of half frozen water. 
Though nearly perishing with cold, as the water 
rapidly congealed about his limbs, his irrepressi- 
ble wit flashed forth for an instant. Eealizing 
the humor of the situation, he exclaimed to his 
erstwhile landlady, who, beholding the catastro- 
phe, rushed frantically to the spot : — " Aha ! 
madam ! you would make a Baptiste of me, but 
I'll get you yet." And he did ; about the year 
1886, the retired proprietress, always one of his 
staunchest friends, was received by his own min- 



224: FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

istrations into the circle of his little flock. At 
another time, it is related, while on duty with 
his brigade, the pastor fireman was severely in- 
jured by a falling chimney, but, almost miracu- 
lously, escaped. 

In addition to his labors in the immediate cir- 
cle of his congregation, and his philanthropic 
w^ork in the community at large, the young 
Father Yally still retained some of his missions 
in the distant portions of the state. 

His journeys to and fro are now attended by 
the dangers arising from the disturbed state of 
society, as well as the perils of forest and prairie. 
Nearly eight years have passed since our French 
missionary assumed the Meridian pastorate ; and 
the wild, lawless epoch of the carpet-bagger is at 
hand. The spirit of unrest, of anarchy, of every 
species of civil disturbance, is abroad in Missis- 
sippi, and the state is passing through the most 
sinister period of its civic history. A political 
chaos seems to engulf all things. The tremen- 
dous wave of Eeconstruction, dashing upon the 
ruins of the old order, leaves a horrid flotsam 
and jetsam, a deadly putrescence, the evil odors of 
which fill all the land with foul miasma. All 



A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. 225 

periods of transition are tumultuous, and the 
Juggernaut of social evolution must trample the 
bleeding forms of a thousand perishing ideals. 
Intoxicated with the strong hasheesh of freedom, 
the negro stalks, a horrid menace to the land. 
Crushed and blood-stained like the " Conquered 
Banner," the power of thought and action seems 
for a time suspended in southern men. 

The reeking arm of Civil war, has lifted 
American civilization to a more sublime plateau ; 
but in the lifting has left the bleeding roots of 
the Old Regime festering in the strong sunlight 
of the New. In these turbulent times no man's 
property or life is sacred. Law has forsaken his 
tribunals, and Order weeps beside the new made 
graves. Deep is the night in the hour that pre- 
cedes dawn, and deeper far the gloom that ever 
heralds Cosmos. But calmly upon his upward 
way, pausing not, nor swerving from his path, 
walks the pastor of Meridian through these tur- 
bulent times, and in all his lonely pilgrimages to 
and from his missions, he is seldom molested. 
But one alarming incident is related, half in jest, 
half in earnest, by the pastor himself in later 
years. 



226 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

A more than wonted darkness seemed to 
fall with the December night, and the muflied 
footsteps of the snow trod noiselessly upon the 
dusk, as Louis Yally, worn out from a pilgrim- 
age to a distant part of the state, reaches the 
Meridian station at midnight, and steps upon the 
rough plank walk that leads diagonally through 
the thick wood to the gate of his little presby- 
tery. As rapidly as his over-weary limbs will 
allow, the missionary is hastening toward his 
domicile, when the dull thud of a heavy step 
sounds regularly behind him. Glauciug furtively 
into the gloom, the travel weary pastor dimly 
discerns a man's figure in the increasing dark- 
ness. Faster and faster the snowflakes begin to 
fall, resting, like visible caresses upon the giant 
pines, and weaving a thin gauze upon the forest 
aisles. Still Louis Yally walks onward, an en- 
forced haste urging his tired steps. Still the 
dull, continual tread in the rear, pausing when he 
pauses, proceeding when he proceeds. Always 
the shadowy form behind him keeps its distance. 
Glancing anxiously at his missionary valise, 
wherein the sole treasures of the little church lie 
hidden, — the sacred vessels of the Sacrifice and 



A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. 227 

Sacraments, — the exhausted pastor presses for- 
ward with renewed energy, his gait ahnost 
quickening to a run. As he does so, the heavy 
footsteps draw nearer, and his mysterious pur- 
suer gradually gains upon him. I^ow the little 
gate is reached, Louis Tally hastily pushes it 
open — a few steps and shelter will be obtained. 
Little recking of his own welfare, but almost 
frenzied with anxiety because of the sacred 
burden he carries, the closely pressed and en- 
tirely unarmed missionary gains his door, almost 
gasping for breath. As he nervously attempts 
to turn the key, a heavy hand is laid upon his 
shoulder, and a pair of piercing eyes glare into 
his own, — the eyes of the tiger about to spring 
upon its victim. Before Louis Yally can speak, 
however, the rude hand is withdrawn, the savage 
light dies from the eyes, the whole figure of the 
man takes on a different aspect, shrinking, almost 
cowering, before the calm gaze of the missionary. 
" Your pardon. Father, I took you for another." 
" My God ! " the hoarse murmur of the depart- 
ing stranger is heard by the amazed priest, upon 
the intense stillness of the hour; — "My God! 
not tliat ! — how nearly I had slain a priest ! " 



228 FOR THE H0:N0R OF THE KING. 

And when, in the dark days that followed, 
rumor of foul murder done in the solemn shad- 
ow's of the pines came to the ear of Louis Tally, 
kneeling in the silence of his little sanctuary, he 
gave thanks to the Great Preserver, as well as 
Author of all life, that he was spared to labor 
yet a little longer in His Yineyard. 

The fountain of sweet waters that gives re- 
freshment to the multitude, must draw its 
abounding life from hidden springs within the 
hills. So the pure and virile inspiration dis- 
pensed by the young pastor to his fellow men, is 
fed by the sacred springs of prayer, and of ever 
increasing love for the Creator, and of the beauty 
of His works. Foremost among the latter in the 
uplifting influence and potent ministry to the 
spiritual progress of the missionary himself, were 
the gentle revelations of the flowers, the sweet 
gospels that he daily read from the beautiful 
Scriptures of his little garden. Where the Su- 
preme Artist dwells, music should lift her voice 
in worship, and the purest flowers should bloom. 
Ever true to his great love of the Master, Father 
Yally plants the seeds of the little garden that 
for many years shed sweet odor about the altar 



A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. 229 

and his heart. Laboring, in the rare moments 
he can spare from his almost unremitting toil as 
a missionary priest, curtailing the already scanty 
hours of his sleep, the young pastor fashions with 
his own hands a little greenhouse wherein the 
sweet comrades of his heart may live Avhen 
winter comes. And when th,e first bulbs lift 
their emerald spears, the lily unfolds her white 
petals, and the rose, leaf by leaf reveals her 
crimson heart, the spirit of the young priest re- 
joices with a joy that every morning with its 
sweet surprises is destined to increase. 

And as a rose that rarely blooms alone, but 
nearly always brings a" sister rose ; so every holy 
joy and pure desire, brings a sister joy unto the 
soul. Soon all the little congregation know the 
pastor's love for his tiny garden plot ; and from 
far and near, from the village and its suburbs, 
came offerings of precious bulbs and of abundant 
seed. And thus is sown the little garden of the 
Meridian mission, and thus is sown another 
garden, — wherein the iinmortelles unfold, in the 
heart of pastor and of flock. A second and even 
deeper spring whence is nourished the inner life 
of the missionary, is the inspiring friendship of 



230 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Rev. John Baptiste Mouton. Of all sources of 
illumination, and potent factors of progressive 
spiritual and intellectual life, none is more pow- 
erful than the communion vfith a kindred spirit, 
the touch of mind and mind, the friction of har- 
monious though diverse intelligences, from which 
is kindled the pure Promethean spark of mutual 
inspiration. The strong individuality of Father 
Mouton stamps its noble outlines upon the char- 
acter and labors of the younger priest ; while a 
refluent stream of love and virile suggestion, re- 
freshes the spirit of the elder of the comrades. 
And in those shadowy hours of intangible de- 
spondency and of spiritual questioning to which 
the noble and sensitive nature is peculiarly liable, 
the sound judgment and uplifting presence of 
John Baptiste Mouton is an unfailing light, a 
hope and an inspiration. 

Father Mouton had, previous to this period, 
grown steadily more powerful, gathering new 
strength and impetus from the obstacles, the 
trials, the daily struggles of human life. Devo- 
tion to the Man of Galilee, the Supreme Friend 
of humanity, becomes a sublime passion in the 
heart of Louis Tally; daily, he presses more 



A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. 231 

closely to His side ; daily he feels more keenly 
the touch and influence and stimulus of His 
Presence. Into mind and heart and character 
the divine infusion permeates, and always, and 
through all circumstances, the young missionary 
walks upward and onward to the Light. 

And by the virile compulsion of his high in- 
tegrity, the mighty spiritual gravity by which all 
good, even material prosperity, is drawn toward 
the orbit of a strong and fearless spirit, the out- 
ward environment of Louis Tally begins to 
change, and is, gradually, almost imperceptibly, 
softened. Simple and deep are the workings of 
the great Architect of human destinies ; crude 
and insignificant in seeming. M. Yigne having 
been appointed pastor of Paulding, and was 
frequently a visitor to the little Meridian presby- 
tery, while the younger pastor, in his journey- 
ing to and from his scattered missions, was often 
the guest, for a night, of his well-beloved friend. 

But besides the pure fountains of natural beauty, 
and of intellectual companionship, he nourished 
the fine impulses of his spirit from another, and 
a celestial source, and he drinks long and deeply, 
of the Stream of Living Waters ; in the quiet of 



232 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the midday, when no sound save his own footstep 
wakes the echoes in the little church, he is wont 
to recite his Breviary in the presence of the King ; 
and during the twenty-two years of incessant 
labor, fails only on two occasions to offer the 
Mighty Sacrifice. Like a noble stream ever 
deepening and widening until it plunges into the 
bosom of the sea, his love of the Humanity of 
Christ as manifested in the Wonderful Sacra- 
ment, the implements of His choosing. One 
sunny day there comes to the little presbytery 
an old South Carolina darky, whose ebony head 
holds its bright bandana high in the air, and 
whose portly form is starched with self-com- 
placency because of having been owned, in the 
old regime, by " rustocratic white folks." " Aunt 
Lucy," as she announced herself, " ain't no Mis- 
sissippi nigger " ; no, not she, but she is a mem- 
ber of the Church where state pride does not en- 
ter, and even the Mason and Dixon line must be 
blotted out in the victorious Union of Brotherly 
Love. And so " Aunt Lucy," one of the simple 
lives set adrift by the ^N'ew Order, and the only 
Catholic negress in the Meridian mission," imbued 
with a loyalty that would do honor to a whiter 



A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. 233 

breast, comes of her own account and offers her 
services to Louis Yally. " Jes' gimme whut yer 
kin spare in the line ob wages," she explains, "an' 
I'll cook de meals an' ring de church bell, an' 
stick to you fur good, sure's my name's Lucy 
Thomas." A new regime now begins in the 
domicile. With the advent of his Abigail, the 
young pastor is spared the inconvenience of taking 
his meals at a boarding house ; he can live indeed, 
beneath his humble roof, and offer such simple 
hospitality as the presbytery affords. Precious 
beyond measure are the services of the sable Car- 
olinian and to be retained at any odds. But the 
ebony dame must be accommodated, and the wits 
of the young pastor must set to work anew. 

There is the little cow house, — the improvised 
home of the mild-eyed Jersey, a recent present 
from a kindly parishioner,, and a valuable addi- 
tion to the Yally commissary. The amateur sta- 
ble (of his own making) does well enough for 
Betty, who does not seem fastidious ; but for the 
august person of Aunt Lucy ! — shall he dare to 
hazard the suggestion ? Something must be 
done, and that something instantly. Quartering 
bis awe-inspiring aid-de-camp, for a couple of 



234 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

nights, upon a good-natured neighbor, Louis 
Yallj goes to work. Aunt Lucy means leisure, 
priceless, priceless, inestimable leisure ; leisure 
for prayer, for meditation, sweet communion of 
the Master ; and the thought nerves his arm with 
double strength. The wondering, but unresist- 
ing Betty is unceremoniously pressed into closer 
quarters. One-half of her stable is boarded off 
and a rude flooring placed therein. Only an in- 
domitable will can perform the feat of subtract- 
ing something from nothing ; but from the her- 
mit-like poverty of the little manse, the young 
pastor manages to find wherewithal to give his 
handmaiden's quarters the appearance of a bed- 
room. A capacious dry goods box is mustered 
into service, and some rough planks do noble 
duty. The damsel's quilts are curiously utilized, 
and — presto ! the barrack of the second soldier 
of the mission is ready for the recruit. But is 
the recruit ready for the barrack ? Blood-curd- 
ling question ! what if the private deserts, ap- 
palled by the privations of the campaign ? With 
thumping heart and hesitating voice, he constitutes 
himself a body-guard of one to conduct the Caro- 
linian to her new domain. Tossing her bandana 



A MAN OF THE PEOPLE. 235 

head yet higher in the air, Aunt Lucy inquires 
sententiously : — " Whar's dis here residence at, 
Father Yally ?" Venturing no reply, the young 
missionary walks dejectedly on, his trepidation 
increasing at every step, his courage oozing at 
every pore. Hardly daring to look at his sable 
companion, Louis Yally throws open the door of 
the erstwhile cow shed. As he does so, a rippling 
laugh bursts from the lips of the stately dark}^, 
half startling, half annoying her downcast cice- 
rone. A mild rebuke is about to leap to the lips 
of Louis Yally, when Aunt Lucy checks her un- 
timely mirth, and places her black hands rev- 
erently and half tenderly upon the sleeve of her 
disconcerted young host. The cause of her 
amusement is remote from that suspected by the 
young missionary. " Law, Father ! " — the white 
teeth begin to shine again in an ever broadening 
grin. "Law, Father! dis 'oraan ain't no snide 
nigger. Lucy Thomas can lib mos' anyw^har, an' 
still hoi' her hed above de po' white trash. Don't 
yer min' de 'commodations. I an' Betsey '11 get 
'long 'mazinly ! " With keen sagacity and a 
ready eye to the situation, the sagacious darky 
had seen the young pastor's predicament, and her 



236 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

uncouth laughter was prompted by the kindly 
wish to put him at his ease. On the spot is in- 
augurated, between Abigail and master the nota- 
ble firm, as Aunt Lucy phrased it — of " I an' 
Father Yally," and it ran without bankruptcy for 
more than twenty years; then death dissolved 
the partnership. 



CHAPTEE XIV 

RECESSIONAL 

The spring of 1876 clothes the garden of the 
presbytery with a greater beauty than it has 
ever known. Everywhere the green stalks lift 
their emerald arms, as though in prayer beneath 
the April sky. A thousand sweet surprises greet 
the gardener at each step. Every bed is an 
Apocalypse, every nook and corner is radiant 
with Easter. Each seed sown in the winter 
springs into glorious life ; the serried legions of 
the lilies stand like white robed virgins about 
the door of the little sanctuary, and the hya- 
cinths, like acolytes, ring their purple bells in a 
jubilant Gloria. With the bursting of the seed 
and bulb, and the uplifting of the tender grass 
spires, a hope that has lain like the lilies in the 
soil, fallow through the long winter of struggle 
and privation in the heart of the missionary, 
begins to take on form and beauty, to bud and 
bloom therein. Whoso enters the deep Yalley 
237 



238 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

of Eenunciation bears with him the same human 
heart, — bruised, nay, even broken it may be, but 
throbbing with the same affections, the same 
deep love for country, home, and kindred. True 
it is, that his spiritual universe knows no bounds, 
reaching from eternity to eternity ; that the 
kindred of his soul dwell in every land between 
the rising and the setting sun ; but the strong 
cords of Adam by which he is drawn to the 
hearthstone of his youth, are inextricably woven 
into the fabric of his being. No normal indi- 
vidual is less the man because of great ideals and 
heroisms. Human nature must be fired with 
God ; not obliterated, or unwisely ignored. 
Through the exaltation, and not the suppression 
of all true emotions, we rise to our full stature, 
and attain a royal liberty. The heart of man is 
like the flower that turns always to the sun; 
when firmly rooted in the soil of duty, it ever 
looks with longing toward the solar light of God- 
inspired human love that gave it birth. And 
the deep yearning of the soul of Louis Yally to 
behold once more his home and kindred, touched 
by the magic hand of prayer, becomes a radiant 
hope, an assured promise. 



RECESSIONAL. 239 

Slowly, as the time ripens, wa3^s and means 
thereto are gathered from many sources and 
fashioned by the Supreme Workman. The uni- 
verse belongs to him who trusts, and men and 
angels serve the true believer. From the four 
points of the compass come the means to do His 
will ; all things and circumstances are His instru- 
ments. 

Years before, in the broken heart of the 
French Eugenie, the Master sowed a seed of 
patriotic love ; and behold, the beautiful plant of 
a great charity sprang forth. Subsidizing the 
owners of a line of French steamers between 
New York and Havre from her private means, 
the agreement was made that all missionary 
sons of France should be given free passage 
when they desired to visit the land of their 
birth. The world has seldom known a more 
tender or refined philanthropy ; and through its 
ministry Louis Yally obtains the fulfilment of 
his hope. The little congregation is now bet- 
ter organized. Rev. C. M. Yigue has been ap- 
pointed pastor of Paulding, and John Baptiste 
Mouton, finding his labors somewhat lightened, 
volunteers to care for our young pastor's mis- 



240 FOR THE HONOR OF TIL'E KING. 

sions, thus enabling Louis Yally to realize the 
fondest desire of his heart. Friendship counts 
no costs ; and friendship knows no distrust ; so 
with perfect self-forgetfulness on the part of the 
elder, and perfect trust on that of the younger 
priest, Louis Yally commits his beloved pastor- 
ate, for the nonce, into the heart and hand of his 
well beloved friend. To the news of the shep- 
herd's intended departure, the deep love of his 
flock makes swift response, and, through a thou- 
sand delicate channels, substantial aid finds its 
way into the little presbytery. Eadiant with 
happiness, but stifling a sob of grief as he bids 
adieu to his little parish, Louis Yally sets out for 
"New York via Yicksburg, pausing long enough 
in the little city to say some farewell words to 
the Sisters of Mercy, — an order for which, during 
the whole of his ministerial life, he cherished an 
exalted admiration. Mentioning within the con- 
vent his threefold object in returning home, — the 
supreme desire to behold his mother, to celebrate 
the great Sacrifice in the church of his native 
hamlet, and to make the pilgrimage to Lourdes, 
then attracting recruits from every part of the 
civilized world,— he is asked by a member of the 



RECESSIONAL. 241 

community what request he intends to make to 
the great Mother. Without a moment's hesi- 
tancy, the young missionary makes answer : — " I 
will say to her, ' O wonderful Lady, I have no 
malady for you to cure, but I ask you to make 
me as strong as a pine knot, so that I can return 
and build a church and convent in Meridian.' " 

'No thought of self is to enter into his petition. 
In New York he is joined by Kev. Florimond 
Blanc ; and the two erstwhile students of Le 
Puy, fellow travelers on the momentous journey 
to the New World, embark side by side, once 
more to return into the Old. 

On shipboard, our companions found a large 
body of clergy assembled, among whom were 
Eev. P. M. L. Massardier, of St. John's Parish in 
New Orleans, and several other countrymen, 
bound, like themselves, for their native France. 

As the vessel crosses the bar and plunges into 
the silent immensity, a mighty calm lies on the 
ocean. The solemn waters are asleep ; even the 
great heart of the sea seems, for the nonce, to 
have ceased its throbbing. A few drowsy sea- 
birds float languidly about the masts ; and only 
the soft lapping of the waves against the 



242 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

steamer gives evidence that the awful ocean 
lives and murmurs in its dreaming. A great 
stillness possesses all things. It is as though 
nature held her breath. 

Comfortably ensconced in the steamer, our 
band of clergymen from the American mis- 
sions exchange reminiscences, — wild tales of the 
wilderness, weird incidents in their hard and 
perilous lives. Toil w^orn men they are; men 
inured to every hardship, men led by the Spirit, 
and from the Spirit drawing a visible strength. 
Worn in constitution, almost wrecked in health, 
the dolce-far-niente of the hour comes like a 
healing angel unto each ; and the Spirit of Kest, 
so long an alien, is lured once more unto each 
bosom. Intent upon a story told by Louis Yally, 
the clergymen have not heeded the sinister cloud 
that lies like a serpent upon the eastern horizon, 
nor do they see the look of anxiety upon the 
usually beaming face of the captain standing aft. 
Aroused, however, by the peculiar snapping 
sound of a sail forced against the wind, the mis- 
sionaries become conscious of an unusual bustle 
about them. But before they are able to grasp 
the peril of the situation, a tremendous gust, like 



RECESSIONAL. 243 

a mighty monster springing full armed from the 
womb of the approaching storm, sweeps over the 
vessel, catching one of the smaller masts, and 
twirling it in its Titan arms like a whirligig, 
sending a deep shiver through the noble ship. 
In an instant, the entire crew strain at the 
loosened sail ; but the awful arms of the tempest 
defy their utmost might. The strong seamen 
toil until nerve and sinew are well-nigh burst- 
ing, and some of the passengers are pressed into 
service. Foremost among these, is Louis Tally, 
who, at the beck of the captain, springs forward 
to the aid of the exhausted crew. It is now 
about six in the morning, and the tardily rising 
sun of spring trails a gold carpet across the sea, 
making a shining pathway for the storm. A 
swift glance ocean ward, reveals to Louis Yally 
the fearful majesty of the gathering tempest. 
In the mighty drama of the deep, a great trans- 
formation scene has been wrought. The sea is 
waking fiercely from its sleep, and its passionate 
heart throbs more audibly each moment. A 
dull leaden hue stains the troubled w^aters, mak- 
ing the golden path look lurid. An angry froth 
gathers and curdles upon the swelling ocean, 



244 FOE, THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

and the hoarse voices of the breakers thunder 
their resistless cannonade, churning the waters 
into blinding spray. Still the gold sun path 
lives upon the waves, rising, sinking, throbbing, 
with the convulsions of the tempest, accentuat- 
ing the deepening gloom of the storm. Eapidly, 
as the shrieks of the tempest grow louder, the 
affrighted passengers below, hastily aroused 
from their morning slumbers, gather upon deck, 
wide eyed and pallid, gazing, horror-stricken 
upon the sea, or falling frantically upon their 
knees in incoherent prayer. Still, the sail, 
loosed from its harness, whirls frantically in the 
monster grasp of the storm. The resources of 
the ship are taxed to the utmost ; passengers and 
crew are well-nigh spent; and still the small 
piece of canvas hisses like a fiend its defiance of 
their strength. In the savage clutch of such 
stupendous force, man seems less than the drops 
of spray wrung from the deep agony of the 
waters. Man! king of thought, and heir of 
life ; — man ! infinitesimal atom in the universe of 
dust ! Man ! God-made, and God-like, greater 
than the ocean, more impotent than the grain of 
sand ! 



RECESSIONAL. 245 

" What am I that Thou shouldst know me ? " 
And the hiss and war of the waters, the tumult 
of human hearts on deck, the horrid tearing of 
the still uncontrolled sail at its moorings, — the 
words are clearly spoken in the inmost being of 
Louis Yally. Scarcely twenty yards of canvas 
and the invisible whirlwind, and man is made 
the plaything of their caprice ! 

The path upon the inky waters widens; the 
tardy sun lifts a golden rim above the angry 
east, as though to crown the storm. Looking 
eastward once again, the missionary beholds the 
light gradually gaining upon the darkness, and 
the fierce fingers of the tempest relax their iron 
clutch upon the mast. Seeing this, the captain 
signals all hands to strain at the ropes of the 
loosened sail once more. Slowly the white can- 
vas ceases its convulsive writhing, and, like a 
tired bird ensnared by a trapper, flutters feebly 
into position. The golden path upon the sea 
widens into a vast field of radiance ; and here 
and there, the retreating footsteps of the tempest 
show black upon the gold. Light glorifies, trans- 
forms, conquers all things ; and, born of the light, 
comes to the son of the Yallys a deep sense of 



246 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the eternal truth, that behind man's impotence, 
stands the boundless power of the Deity ; that 
the child of Adam is master of the universe, and 
possesses within his spiritual nature a power to 
which the elemental forces are feeble in com- 
parison. Man, the crown and conqueror of na- 
ture ; at once the master and the slave of time ! 
In the boundless ocean of the spirit, tempests 
fiercer than the rage of wind and waters break 
from the immortal deeps; anguish vaster than 
the woe of storm-lashed sea ; joys transcending 
the utmost glory of the finite ocean. 

And while the raging elements hurled their 
fury against the goodly ship, another, and a 
vaster tempest was enacting. 

Deep in the close-packed and ill-ventilated 
steerage, a coarsely-clad woman bends above her 
dying son. Like her of Nain, she is a widow, 
and this her only boy, though two little daugh- 
ters are pressing to her side. The brand of des- 
titution is upon her person, — the fierce scars of 
care, the livid prints of mental struggle and of 
physical privation. A sudden lurch of the vessel 
shakes rudely the pallid face upon the rugged 
berth, causing a half-suppressed cry of agony to 



RECESSIONAL. 247 

burst from the lips of the stricken mother. 
Above the awful tumult of the storm, a babel of 
human voices, discordant with fear, fill the shift- 
ing steerage with horrid pandemonium. The 
hatchways have been closed ; and the tainted 
atmosphere reeks with the foul odors of drugs 
and adulterated spirits. Gliding like a thing of 
evil through the air, the insidious fumes of opium 
surreptitiously smoked by one of the passengers 
who strives to lose the awful agony of his life in 
a transient Nirvana. And death walks amid 
these living dead ; and sin broods like a visible 
presence within the place. Lounging in tattered 
hammocks, stretched upon the repulsive berths, 
lying prone upon the reeking floor, are men and 
women, dead^ though drawing vital breath ; dead 
in iniquity, shrouded in moral and mental dark- 
ness, sepulchred in tombs of passion, and writh- 
ing in the inferno of stimulant and drug. Here 
and there, groups of the better class are huddled 
together anon, a prayer is uttered ; but all turn 
their haggard eyes, — eyes filled with human 
sympathy in rare instances, — eyes bleared and 
brutal — toward the widow's son, watching, with 
morbid interest, the work of death among them. 



248 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

As absorbed, as remote from her environment as 
though in some silent desert, the heart-broken 
widow gazes upon the fading countenance, all 
her faculties merged in sight. In the solitude of 
supreme emotion, her spirit stands alone. Slowly, 
the dying eyes are opened, — one look, in which 
the mother's life would fain pass into the perish- 
ing form of the son ; — now the chill upon the 
frame of the young man begins to deepen, freez- 
ing the heart in the bosom of the watcher. To 
the benumbed faculties of the woman, cold .seems 
to permeate all things. It is as though the very 
spirit of her were locked in ice; a rigid agony 
settles upon her features. The savage indiffer- 
ence of the tempest, the unconcerned gaze of her 
fellow-passengers, everything, — a fierce tempta- 
tion seems to whisper, "Everything is cold to 
grief — cold as God." But a voice husky with 
emotion sounds in her ear, and a kindly hand is 
laid upon her shoulder. For the first time, the 
heart-broken mother removes her eyes from her 
dead. Louis Yally kneels tenderly beside the 
bed, and draws the stained coverlid over the 
stiffening form. "All is dead, good mother; 
God lives.'''' " But these must die," the agonized 



RECESSIONAL. 24:9 

widow murmurs, pointing to the two little girls 
that cower beside the bed ; " he was our sole 
support; there will be no bread." Again the 
missionary speaks : — " Bread will come, Christ 
will send it, if you will believe." And the widow 
answers, '^Ihelieve.'''* 

Through the now open hatches, one ray from 
the broad sun path without, cleaves the loathsome 
atmosphere and rests upon the widow and her 
dead. 

That night, when a mighty calm had touched 
the troubled sea to perfect peace once more, and 
all nature seemed quick with God, Louis Tally, 
hand in hand with the tiny daughters of the 
widow, told crew and passengers of the awful 
tragedy below ; told them of the white, dead 
face of the son, the frozen features of the living 
mother; told them of the awful destitution of 
the little ones at his side. Gradually, his audi- 
ence gathers around him, — captain and mate, 
crew and passengers. Ceasing suddenly to ad- 
dress them, Louis Yally lifted his voice, and in- 
toned the hymn to the Virgin. Placing his arms 
about the timid children, he signed them to sing. 
Eeluctantly at first, but gathering courage, the 



250 FOE, THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

little ones blended their voices in the chorus. 
The sweet, familiar words brought strength, and 
soon the singers were oblivious of their surround- 
ings. Out between the starry heavens and the 
star-flecked waters, the childish plea for help, for 
strength, for protection, drifted and mingled with 
the gentle influence of the night. Weaving all 
the yearning, the sympath}^, the love of his na- 
ture for humanity into song, Louis Yally sang on 
and on. When the hymn was over, the passen- 
gers sobbed unrestrainedly, and the rough sea- 
men turned aside their heads. Taking a tattered 
cap from the head of one of the little ones, the 
son of the Yallys passed it silently among the 
crowd. Every heart and purse therein re- 
sponded ; and the stricken widow and children 
were placed above immediate need. 

In the quiet days that followed, when sky and 
ocean shut out the great world of men and cities, 
only the little world on the shipboard seemed to 
demand their hearts of love, Louis Yally and 
Florimond Blanc would make frequent visits to 
the steerage, ministering to the spirits and the 
bodies of the sufferers therein. And this deep 
sympathy for the unfortunate ones on board, en- 



RECESSIONAL. 251 

deared the two missionaries likewise to fellow 
passengers and to crew. 

The great central ocean has now been 
passed. The beloved shores of their " La Belle 
France " begin to draw a faint outline on the 
horizon. At the sight of their native shores, 
the heart of every Frenchman on board, leaps 
witiiin his bosom, and the deep waters of 
patriotism flood every spirit with strong emo- 
tion. 

In such a mood this evening upon the moon- 
bathed deck, the voice of Louis Yally arises in 
the grand chant of the Marseilhiise. Oblivious of 
all things, the mighty enthusiasm of the French- 
man lifts his spirit with resistless power. Not a 
sound is heard on shipboard ; every Frenchman 
in the little band thrills with overpowering emo- 
tion. Few among them have ever heard their 
national anthem sung like this. No soul can 
fully appreciate civil liberty that has not first 
been filled with spiritual freedom, and with this 
freedom is Louis Yally free. And the power of 
it rings triumphantl}^ entoning a thousand pasans 
in his voice. 

^' Allons enfants de la jpatric^'* etc. 



252 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

But in the solemn stillness that follows, the 
deep voice of the ocean seems to sob : 

'^ Liberty lies dead in France^ slain hy her 
misguided sons.^^ 



CHAPTEE XY 

THE TOUCH OF MIDAS 

While the ship that bears the son of the 
Yallys homeward is braving the changeful hu. 
mors of the sea, enthusiastic preparations for his 
reception are en tapis in the little village of 
Lavaudieu. Simon and Marie, inebriated with 
joy at the prospect of the exile's speedy return, 
set no bounds to their exuberant delight, no limit 
to their loving efforts to make his welcome one 
befitting his sacred oflBce, and long to be remem- 
bered in the hamlet. For more than a fortnight, 
the little household has been in a tumult of busy 
expectation. ISTew linen, sweet-scented with lav- 
endar and bay, is unearthed from the big cedar 
chest, and the windows and floor and furniture 
of the awe-inspiring company bedroom, are made 
immaculate by scrubbing-brush and polish. Good 
old wine left from the vintage that warmed the 
hearts of the folks at the wedding of Simon and 
Marie, produced only upon occasions of the ut- 

253 



254 FOR THE HOXOR OF THE KING. 

most solemnity, is disentombed from its cob- 
webbed crypt in a mysterious corner of the 
cellar, and placed within handy reach ; mammoth 
pies are baked, and tarts and cookies are prepared, 
for the lad that is coming used to love them 
to be sure, and "men are only grown-up bo3"s," 
thinks Marie with an audible chuckle. The gray 
goose is fattening, and the tender shoat will be 
killed by and by. Then there is a yearling lamb, 
and there is, ah me ! there are so many things 
awaiting, that the good dame is all a-flurry with 
the thought of them, and sometimes, w^hen there 
is nothing else to do, w411 turn round and round, 
and hurry hither and thither from sheer excess 
of energy. 

Outside, to meadow and mountain and vine- 
yard, spring has brought a beautiful mantle of 
joy and exuberant life ; all nature seems decked 
for some high festival. To the guileless hearts 
of the elder Yallys, the external world rejoices 
in their joy ; never has season given such abun- 
dant promise, never has the carnival of the blos- 
soms marshaled such legions of leaf and bud. 
The very household pets seem to know that the 
young priest is coming. Did not Jack, the clever 






THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 255 

pointer, sniff enquiringly last night, about Louis' 
favorite chair ? 

And if excitement runs high in the home of 
the Yallys, scarcely less enthusiasm is felt in the 
hamlet itself. An electrical atmosphere of expect- 
ancy pervades the place. Little knots of the vil- 
lagers gather here and there on the principal 
street, and now and then the passer-by hears 
scraps of dialogue, trebly accentuated by gesticu- 
lation. 

" I tell you, Mere Brousard," says old Mere 
Julie, craning her neck from her window as the 
latter passes by ; " the folk do tell that Marie 
Tally's son is rich, — richer than the mayor — 
than all Lavaudieu ! " '' Don't believe no such 
gab, Eose Brousard ; but — mayhe there's some- 
thing in it;" — the resentful assurance in her 
voice wilts to a tone of mystery — ^' Mayhe there's 
something in it. Ciel ! I wonder if Marie Yally'd 
like a helping hand in her baking ? They do say 
she is working herself nigh dead ; but she's 
starched that stiff, I'm kinder fear'd to ax her." 
"Kinder feared, Kose Brousard, — if that don't 
beat the Israelites ! — kinder feared ! well, I 
reckon you'd better be downright good fashioned 



256 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

sheered, considering the shame you put on her 
when Louis went away, and considering you 
ain't crossed her threshold since that blessed 
day she turned on you, nigh eight years 
agone." 

" Bien ! Blen ! Julie," sneers the irate pe- 
destrian ; " if I ain't been to the Yallys', no more 
have you. And if you Kcwe been to the Yallys' 
I guess you didn't stay longer than a grease spot 
would stay on Satan's pitchfork ; — Marie made it 
too hot for you." 

" Taisez ! taisez ! Mere Brousard ; the money 
ain't come yet, and I guess Marie Yally '11 look 
after it when it does," retorts Julie, as a parting 
shot. But the indignant Mere Brousard is mak- 
ing headway down the street. 

For days before the vessel upon which Louis 
has taken passage is due in the harbor of Havre, 
the eager Simon and Marie, thinking that some 
unusual circumstance might bring the lad home 
before the appointed day, repair to the little 
depot to meet every morning train, followed, at 
a respectful distance, by a motley crowd of the 
villagers. At each new disappointment, the 
anxious parents return dejectedly to their home, 



THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 257 

but renew on the morrow their pilgrimage 
Wamouv, 

Louis, meanwhile, having landed safely at 
Havre, proceeds at once to Paris, and lingers a 
couple of days in the capital in order to purchase 
dragees for the villagers and a new cassock in which 
to ffreet the mother and the dear ones at home. 
Worn threadbare by the jeans of toil in the 
Meridian mission, the old garment must now be 
put aside to do honor to the simple folk of 
Lavaudieu. The slight delay necessitated by the 
purchases, strains the patience of the village folk 
to the utmost tension ; and, as the train actually 
bearing the prodigal draws slowly into the sta- 
tion. Mere Rose nudges her nearest neighbor, and 
exclaims in a stage whisper that goes clear as a 
shot to the ears of Marie Tally, whose portly 
form fairly bristles at the words; — "I don't be- 
lieve that lad's a-coming anyhow; it's just a fake 
put up by the Tally s ; — here are ray new sabots 

nigh worn out with " But the housewife's 

lament sizzles into a gasp, as a familiar arm 
thrust through the car window, waves frantically 
to the crowd. Every eye turns toward the 
coach, and with an instinct of innate refinement, 



258 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the peasants fall back a few paces, allowing 
Marie and Simon Yally to stand to the front. 
Within the coach, Louis Yally draws his new 
cassock from his little valise, and, assisted by 
Monsieur Blanc, robes himself therein, for his 
trembling fingers cannot master the brand-new 
buttonholes unaided. 

Slowly the train crawls into the station ; — a 
couple of minutes, during which the heart of the 
young priest bounds in his bosom, and all the joy 
and tears and j^earning of his whole life seem to 
gather within his breast and almost to suspend 
his breath — now, the sharp jolt of the train, and 
the harsh call of the porter, — " Lavaudieu I " 

For a dizzy second, a slight mist blots plat- 
form and crowd from the sight of the exile ; — an- 
other instant, the arms of Marie Yally are folded 
tightly about him, and the head of Louis drops 
upon her bosom with the gesture of a tired child. 

E'ot one of that eager crowd of spectators 
makes a single step forward ; spellbound by the 
strong emotion of the Yallys, every mother's 
heart among them beats in sympathy, and the 
eyes of every father are dim with tears which 
fall unchecked upon the toil worn faces. 



THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 259 

After a long sweet moment into which an 
eternity seems compressed, Louis Yally lifts his 
head, and looks straight into the eyes of Marie. 
It is one of those looks in which spirit touches 
spirit ; — " Ma Mere ! " — the words are scarcely 
heard by the nearest villager ; those of Marie, — 
*' Mon fils ! " so low the voices that gave them 
utterance ; but from the utmost heaven where 
the Supreme Paternity of the Father broods 
above the universe, through all creation, even to 
earth's utmost solitudes, where the savage mother 
lulls her sable offspring, the words are reechoed, 
and will reecho through eternity. The gruff 
tones of the porter trundling a hand truck bear- 
ing the baggage of the two missionaries, arouses 
the spellbound folk of Lavaudieu to a sense of 
their environment, and the spell of strong emotion 
is broken. Simultaneously, the villagers press 
forward, seizing the person of the dazed son of 
the Yallys, and laying strong but affectionate" 
hands upon M. Blanc, nearly smothering both in 
an avalanche of caresses. 

Her buxom person having been pressed to the 
edge of the crowd in the melee, Mere Brousard 
finds herself unceremoniously joggled into the 



260 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

baggage truck. Before her calliope-like voice 
can rise in protest, her ferret eyes have read the 
name, " Louis Yally," upon the trunk. Poking 
at the leathern sides as she would test a thanks- 
giving turkey, the good dame mutters sotto 
voce : — " 'Pears to me 'tis pretty large, — looks as 

if the folks told true 'bout the money, and " 

But the sentence is punctuated with a dull thud, 
as the impatient porter gives the truck a lively 
jerk, and Mere Brousard finds herself in a bow- 
knot on the platform. Gathering herself to- 
gether, a little limp in spirits and in limb, the 
good Mere joins the body-guard of villagers that 
have closed about the Yallys, and are escorting 
them down the principal street of the hamlet to 
the home of Simon and Marie. 

A few hours later, having resisted the kindly 
invitation of the good cure that the young priest 
should take up his abode at the presbytery, 
Marie Yally has ensconced her lad cosily amid the 
much scrubbed glories of the company bed-room. 

Eight years had dealt kindly with the old 
home, and over all things, le Ion Dieu had set 
the fair spirit of Prosperity to keep watch and 
guard. 



THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 261 

In those first sweet days, the subtle intuitions 
that bloom like wild flowers in the untutored 
breast, bade the simple folk of the village check 
their eager curiosity in regard to the newly re- 
turned son of the Yallys, and keep aloof, for the 
nonce, from the home of Simon and Marie. There, 
in a sacred cloister, built by love, parents and son, 
brothers and sister lived again the old sweet life. 
During the absence of Louis, John and Marguerite 
had both wedded ; and the happy voices of little 
children are now heard within the home. John 
has brought his young wife to dwell beneath the 
old roof-tree. Marguerite has made a home for 
the husband of her choice in the little hamlet ; but 
since the return of Louis, has come to dwell in 
the homestead, in order to be near the beloved 
priest-brother. 

The missionary himself, becomes the lad once 
more ; the shadows woven by the years of 
mental and of bodily travail, fall softly from his 
spirit. With step as light as in the old days, the 
shepherd boy treads again the morning hills of 
Lavaudieu, and, his every movement followed by 
the tearful eyes of Simon, aids in the fragrant 
labors of the vineyard- "With the old, deep love 



262 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KIXG. 

for the soil drawing him resistlessly, the mis- 
sionary steals into the golden meadows, painted 
with the flowers of spring, and lies at full 
length upon the fragrant sod, the holy spell of 
nature permeating his being and chaining all 
his faculties with her invisible bonds. 

As the week wears on, and the first enthusi- 
asm of home returning begins to give way to 
more lively interest in his environment outside 
the tiny circle of the household, Louis remembers 
the bulky package of Confederate money given 
him by Eev. John Baptiste Mouton before leav- 
ing America. With this same condemned specie, 
of which he has already told Marie, mother and 
son have plotted retaliation upon the unsuspect- 
ing groups who prated so boldly of his desertion 
from the Seminary of Le Puy. Here and there, 
in a thousand indirect ways, Marie Yally has 
hinted of the great wealth her missionary son 
has accumulated in the wonderful land of the 
setting sun, — land where Cortez and Pizarro 
found treasures surpassing the riches of Solomon ; 
where nuggets of gold shine like fallen stars in 
the mysterious valley of the Mississippi, and sav- 
age war chiefs deck themselves with necklaces of 



THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 263 

pearl which they give to the missionary in ex- 
change for a plug of tobacco. Broad and deep 
the good mother laid the foundation of the jest 
that was to ensnare in its wily meshes the folk 
of Lavaudieu, — the good cure alone excepted, 
and sworn to secrecy. 

All things being ripe, Mere Brousard comes just 
at the opportune moment. The good woman's 
curiosity has bubbled and boiled within her 
since her unceremonious introduction to the mis- 
sionary's trunk at the depot ; it has now reached 
the running-over point, and the dame must lay 
siege to the home of the Yallys, — or die in the 
attempt. Her bulky person waddles laboriously 
to the house, dodging shyly, now and then, into 
the kindly shade of the vineyard, as the portly 
form of Marie Yally becomes visible beyond the 
open windows. Pausing a moment before ven- 
turing upon the unshaded lawn in front of the 
domicile. Mere Brousard nerves herself for the 
ordeal, and drawing forth a prim little bouquet 
of spring blossoms, makes ready to fling the 
offering into the maw of Cerberus. Barely 
waiting for her knock to be answered, the 
excited dame wedges herself into the room, and 



264 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

before Marie Yally can make answer to her 
greeting, thrusts the bouquet into the hand of 
her erstwhile enemy. 

" I thought you might like a bit of a flower 
for the table, now that Louis is a priest," — the 
portl}^ visitor stops short in her speech, almost 
gasping with amazement, as, instead of the chill- 
ing reception she has anticipated, Marie Yally 
utters profuse thanks, and with her own hand 
removes the neighbor's bonnet, and establishes 
her in the most commodious chair. Dumb- 
founded, the sharp eyes of Mere Brousard make 
an inventory of the apartment ; suddenly, they 
fall upon a great heap of Confederate money 
that has been tossed pell-mell upon the table. 
Brushing some of the bills carelessly aside to 
make room for the bouquet which she has set in 
water, Marie sends a crisp fifty dollar note float- 
ing to the feet of her petrified neighbor. 

With the reverence of a Buddhist for his idol, 
Mere Brousard picks the bill up by its edges and 
hands it slowly to Marie : — " Fif-ty -dollar ! " 
pants the visitor gasping. " Ain't you skeered of 
burglars, Marie Yally ? " 

At this moment, Louis, who has watched the 



THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 265 

scene from the half-opened door of the next 
room, enters nonchalantly, and, after giving his 
blessing to the courtesying villager, proceeds un- 
hesitatingly to light a cigar with a brand-new 
bill, snatched at random from the table. The 
china blue eyes of the visitor fairly protrude 
with astonishment. As though impelled by 
some extraneous force, her heavy form arises 
slowly from the chair and leans toward the son 
of the Yallys. As she does so. Mere Brousard 
mutters in an aw^estruck whisper: — "That's 
money, Louis Tally, money ; and you a-burning 
it like that — a-burning it." With the insouciance 
of a Eothschild, the missionary steps nearer the 
table — and runs his fingers through the pyramid 
of bills — " Pish ! — it was only a ten^ good 
mother ; we use 'm for that in the States, they're 
better than matches, you know." 

Carelessly sweeping the Confederate paper 
from the table, Louis Tally thrusts his bogus 
wealth into a drawer of the cabinet, and turns 
unconcernedly to the villager: — "What sweet 
flowers. Mere Brousard ; did you bring them 
with you ? " But Mere Brousard scarcely hears 
him in her haste to resume shawl and bonnet. 



266 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Fairly quivering with eagerness to spread the 
news of the wondrous things that were ena.cting 
at the Yallys, the buxom dame waves aside the 
protesting Marie, and forgets a twenty years' 
hobble in her anxiety to reach the village. 

By the afternoon, the news has spread like 
wild-fire. A son of Lavaudieu, the youngest 
boy of Simon and Marie Yally, a lad whom they 
reviled, has returned, not only a priest, but a 
millionaire ! No longer attempting to disguise 
their curiosity, and throwing off all restraint, the 
villagers set out singly, or in groups to the home 
of the Yallys. At nightfall every chair in the 
domicile is occupied, and the folk crowd upon 
the settees. As in the case of Mere Brousard, 
every eye is turned to the table where the Con- 
federate money, — the bills having been replaced 
for the second act of the farce, — lies impassively 
outspread. Night is falling rapidly, and the 
lamps must be lighted. Obeying a covert signal 
from Louis, Marie Yally takes a bill from the pile 
and repeats the manoeuvre of the morning. 
Again the effect is electrical. The spellbound 
peasants hold their breath in amazement. As 
the crisp bill crackles and curls in the flame, the 



THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 267 

shrill voice of old Jacques cuts the silence like a 
buzz-saw : — " Guess we'd better go — Lizette," — 
nudging his abstracted better half ; " this ain't no 
place for poor folks." Almost paralyzed with 
astonishment, the villagers arise simultaneously, 
and follow the lead. Courtesying, smiling, chok- 
ing with merriment, Marie Yally stands by the 
threshold, bidding " Bon soir " to her retreating 
guests. Writhing in throes of long suppressed 
laughter, Louis Yally beats a hasty retreat to his 
own apartment, where his now uncontrollable 
mirth can be confided to the bosom of the bed 
quilt. 

On the following Sabbath, Louis Vally is to 
sing High Mass in the village church. 

The little building is packed to suffocation. 
Priest and millionaire ! — millionaire and priest ! 
according to temperament or grace the words 
are banded in the hamlet. When have the folk 
of Lavaudieu seen such a wondrous sight ? And 
on this Sabbath morning, curious spectators, who 
cannot find i^oom in the overcrowded building, 
mount the crumbling tombs, and even the blos- 
soming trees of the churchyard. Within, the 
voice of the young celebrant, vibrant with 



268 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

power, intones the Preface, and in the hearts of 
the congregation, the spell of Mammon gives 
place to the spell of God. Looking upon the 
face of Louis, pale with excitement, but lit with 
inspiration from on high, the thoughts of the 
supposed millionaire fade from the chastened 
spirits of the peasants. ^'•Priest, priest only, 
priest forever ! " exclaims every heart within the 
multitude. 

The voice of Simon Yally is silent at the 
Credo ; leaving his accustomed place in the 
choir, he goes to the edge of the railing, and, 
vrith streaming eyes, leans far over the balus- 
trade in order to behold his son at the mystic 
moment of the Consecration. Seeing this, the 
pallor deepens on the brow of the celebrant. 

Soon, the Sacrifice is over, and Louis leaves 
the sanctuary and stations himself upon the 
steps of the church. Old men and children, 
youths and maidens, press about him to ask his 
blessing. Something in the bearing, in the face, 
in the spirit, of the Yallys' son drav^'^s the motley 
multitude irresistibly to him ; truly, " A priest, 
a priest forever, according to the order of Mel- 
chisedek ! " ISTow come Simon and Marie ; the 



THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 269 

crowd falls back ; the sobs of strong men can be 
heard as the young priest bends low, and rever- 
ently touches the heads of his parents. 

Issuing from the sacristy, the old cure hands 
the Yallys' son the immense package of dragees 
bought in Paris for the occasion. The strain of 
the morning is related, the reaction sets in, the en- 
thusiasm of the peasants is intense. Thick and 
fast, the sugared shower falls upon the laughing, 
shouting, scrambling multitude. As it comes, 
Marie Yally, passing her arm through that of 
her son walks erectly down the churchyard, smil- 
ing benignantly upon the multitude. It is her 
hour of supreme triumph. The villagers respect- 
fully make way, as though a sovereign was in 
their midst. 

Easter deepens into Whitsuntide. The paschal 
lilies bloom and perish to bequeath their white- 
ness to the Pentecostal dove, which broods 
almost visibly upon the hamlet of Lavaudieu. 
And now, in the home of the Yallys, the season 
of keen delight and exultation is succeeded by 
one of reaction. It is the swing of the pendu- 
lum of human destiny ; between joy and sorrow, 
enthusiasm and depression, the human spirit vi- 



270 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

brates ceaselessly, describing with each rebound, 
the arc of a larger circle. Inspirations are Pro- 
tean in form. And borne of the Pentecostal 
grace, the Spirit of Suffering ministers unto the 
son of the Yallys. A burning fever, which 
deepens into pneumonia, seizes upon the mission- 
ary. The alarm of the good Simon and Marie is 
coined into deep tenderness which, like a spring 
of healing waters, flows ceaselessly upon the 
heart of their stricken one. Little Louis Yally, 
the tiny son of John ; and Simon, the sturdy off- 
spring of Marguerite, linger constantly about the 
bedside of the sufferer; and to Marie Yally the 
years have rolled back, and the American mis- 
sionary is a little lad once more, — her last born, 
the child of her predilection. In the solemn 
watches of the night when the young priest 
seemed to sleep, the mother would steal into his 
chamber and kiss, as only mothers can, the 
fevered brow of her unconscious child. 

Out of the mists that hung like shadow veils 
upon those days of illness, one ghastly spectre 
seemed to take shape and substance and bring 
torment to the spirit of the sufferer. Deeper 
far, than the physical anguish, was the haunting 



THE TOUCH OF MIDAS. 271 

dread that he would never more return to his 
American mission ; that, ere the time was ripe, 
his little flock must be folded by another shep- 
herd. But, when the crisis came, the horrid 
spectre faded from the mental vision of the in- 
valid ; the veils were withdrawn from the faces 
of the days, and May stood like a guardian 
angel upon his threshold and within his heart. 

Arising from his bed, the rejoicing missionary 
goes forth once more among the people of his 
youth. In the last sweet days of his sojourn in 
Lavaudieu, Louis, aided by Simon and John 
Yall}^, purchases and presents a processional 
cross to the little church. It is the desire both 
of Louis, and of his kinsmen, that when the 
former shall have returned to his voluntary 
exile, he will still have a share in the most 
sacred ceremonies and the dearest festivals of 
his people. 

And ever to those who came in touch w^ith the 
spirit of the Yallys' son, is the memory thereof 
associated with the Master's Cross, which, with 
heart and hand, He bore triumphantly in the 
consecrated pilgrimage of His life. 



CHAPTER XYI 

THE ROCKS OF MASSABIELLE 

The deep love of his heart for his earthly 
mother having been satisfied and renewed by 
her dear companionship at Lavaudieu, the spirit 
of the son of the Yallys turns to the great 
mother of humanity, the supreme Woman, in 
whom all maternity finds its sublime prototype 
and pattern. 

Accompanied by his brother John, and joined 
en roitte by Father Leray (afterward archbishop 
of ]^ew Orleans) the pastor of Meridian sets forth 
upon the long anticipated journey to the shrine 
of Lourdes. Passing with reverent tread down 
the main street of the little hamlet, our pilgrims 
seek the shelter of the Soubirous tavern, kept 
by the brother of the youthful Seer, and annexed 
to the lowly home of the miller Francois, father 
of the little maiden beloved by the Archmaiden 
of the Universe. Scarcely pausing to glance at 
his hallowed environment, our young missionary, 
272 



THE ROCKS OF MASSABIELLE. 273 

fired with the enthusiasm of a supreme desire, 
proceeds at once at the royal Basilica and solicits 
from the custodian the permission to celebrate 
the great Sacrifice, on the morrow, within its 
sacred walls. Many applicants are before him, 
for the sons of the primal Eve gather in count- 
less multitudes around the new ; but the 
Meridian pastor has come from the far off 
sunset land, and the eagerness of his spirit 
burns in eye and cheek as he makes his petition 
and prayerfully awaits the answer. It is the 
coveted permission ; and, thrilled with gladness, 
Louis Tally returns to the Soubirous hostelry, to 
pass a night full of sweet anticipations and holy 
dreams. Before the dawn begins to lift her 
virgin brow upon the East, our missionary, with 
emotions akin to those of the little shepherd 
maid of Bartres during the wondrous quinzaine, 
goes silently forth to the glorious Church, his 
soul consumed by desire purer than the awaken- 
ing day, and stronger than the sun-ray to kindle 
life and light upon the sleeping world. High 
upon the crests of the rocks of Massabielle, 
the eternal granite forming an indestructible 
foundation, the inviolate peaks lifting their 



274 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

imperishable battlements on high, like the 
Temple of Mount Zion, stands the superb 
Basilica, — called forth by the word of the 
mighty Yirgin and set as the Ark of the 
Covenant at the gateway of the Pyrenees. 
Within, the semi-darkness of the royal fane is 
starred by a thousand waxen lights, and the 
holy hour that precedes dawn, is quick with 
prayer breathed from the souls of the absorbed 
worshipers. The atmosphere tingles with subtle 
power, the very air is charged with grace. 
Though the clock of the Basilica has not yet 
tolled four, the presence of a vast multitude is 
sensibly felt, and the temple throbs with the 
pregnant silence that arises like a mystic exhala- 
tion wherever a great congregation of believers 
is assembled. The intense spiritual activity be- 
comes almost palpable to the senses. 

In the innumerable army of worshipers that 
assembles at Lourdes, clad in every garb worn 
by the children of men betw^een the rising and 
setting sun, speaking every tongue know^n to the 
seed of Adam, all earthly titles are insignificant, 
all privileges merged and exalted into the com- 
mon birthright of sons and daughters of the 



THE ROCKS OF MASSABIELLE. 275 

Queen of Heaven, each of whom bears, as 
mystic sign and symbol, the great Rosary of 
the pilgrim. 

From midnight until noon, all the forty-five 
altars of the triple church are occupied by cele- 
brants, and the blood of the Lamb flows in an 
uniuterrupted stream. As Louis Yally vests him- 
self for the Sacrifice, a venerable figure emerges 
from the shade of the clustered columns, and 
humbly approaching him, begs, with the tone and 
manner of a little child, to be allowed the priv- 
ilege of serving his Mass. In the fitful candle- 
light, the glittering insignia of military rank is 
observed by the Meridian pastor. Glancing 
keenly at his remarkable supplicant, Louis Tally 
beholds the erect bearing, the imposing mien of 
the stranger. A face glorified by thought, a 
brow marked by power and the habit of com- 
mand. Since midnight, the unknown, at whose 
beck proud legions move, has kept watch in the 
basilica, longing, waiting, for the coveted oppor- 
tunity of becoming an acol3^te at one of the in- 
numerable Masses. Up to this moment, others 
have anticipated him, now his chance has come. 
A flash of joy lights the stern features, as Louis 



276 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Yally gratefully accepts his services ; and with 
an immeasurable reverence, in comparison with 
which that of the humble recruit for his com- 
mander-in-chief is as nothing, the illustrious in- 
cognito serves the son of the peasants, Simon and 
Marie. 

And to the spirit and mind of Louis Yallv 
comes another of those crises, which, in passing 
over the human soul, leave thereon an indelible 
stigma. The resistless significance of the scene, 
the place, the hour, the almost tangible presence 
of supernatural power, seem for one supreme mo- 
ment to merge faith into vision, and to flash upon 
the consciousness of the Yallys' son, as on that of 
Elijah, a bewildering glimpse of the Truth that 
is. 

Outside, the first faint sunbeam, like a tender 
thought of God, touches the mystic grotto, paling 
the countless lights within to sleeping stars, and 
kindling the miraculous spring to limpid opal. 
The subtle atmosphere of Heaven that pervades 
the triple church, becomes ever more palpable in 
the heart of the solemn rock where virgin feet 
have left the footprints of virginity. 

Visible prophecy of the rally of humanity 



THE ROCKS OF MASSABIELLE. 277 

about the Lamb, when the sunrise splendors of 
the Millennial Sabbath shall have opened beyond 
the holy Mount of Prayer, is this dense and silent 
multitude kneeling within the fane of Massabielle, 
every passion chained by worship, every faculty 
locked in prayer. 

Flushed by the powerful emotions of the pre- 
ceding hours, Louis Yally lifts his forehead grate- 
fully to receive the cool touch of the dawn, which 
seems not unlike the hand of the invisible Yirgin, 
beckoning him gently onward as he approaches 
her shrine. Soon, the divine serenity of the 
place permeates his being. Growing gradually 
calmer, the young missionary draws near the 
holy spring and drinks deeply of the living wa- 
ters. It is upon this spot that the countless pil- 
grims are accustomed to utter their requests to 
the wonderful Maiden whose virginal might has 
given the power of healing to the stream. Draw- 
ing him from the far-off state of Mississippi to its 
font of unmeasurable love; across the troubled 
seas of sorrow, of spiritual depression, and the 
vast Atlantic waste, the rock of Massabielle has 
called to the spirit of the pastor of Meridian, 
though Louis Yally has no bodily ill to be healed 



278 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

in the Spring of Springs. But even as the hart 
panteth for the crystal stream, his soul panteth 
for the tide of grace that flows from the " Yas 
Spiritualis." 

Since the all-compelling Word brought forth 
the world from Chaos, and bade the forests lift 
up their royal heads, the sea unfurl its immensity, 
the granite cliffs stand like archangelic sentinels, 
the sublime manifestations of spiritual life and 
power have ever been made in the virgin soli- 
tudes of nature. Gennesareth, Tabor, Horeb, 
Sinai and in the nineteenth century of the Chris- 
tian era, the rugged grandeur of the rocks of 
Massabielle, became the tabernacles wherein the 
eternal Spirit brooded. And the basilica that 
crowns the petros by the cave, is the visible em- 
blem of the Invisible Church, whose foundations 
are laid in the heart of the Eock of Ages. 

Kneeling by the limpid w^aters of the grotto, 
Louis Tally utters the request he has told to the 
Sisters of Mercy : — " O ! wonderful Virgin, I have 
no bodily ailment of w^hich to ask the cure, but 
grant that I may become strong as a pine knot, 
in order that I may return and build a church and 
convent in my distant American mission." 



THE ROCKS OF MASSABIELLE. 279 

All the beautiful day, forever blessed in the 
memory of the Yallys' son, not a cloud obscures 
the dazzling azure of the heavens ; it is as though 
the mystic blue of the Virgin's cincture was out- 
spread upon the atmosphere. Within the little 
tavern, bluff John Siberous, sturdy son of his 
peasant race, aids in the preparation of the mid- 
day meal about to be served in the rustic arbor 
of the hostelry. Like the odor of a hidden flower, 
the simple, sweet environment and its memories 
full of grace, — memories of the little shepherd 
lass who trod the courtyard in her coarse sabots 
and snowy capulet, with patches upon her gown 
and ecstasy upon her spirit, make the hours of 
sunlight fly, like the birds of paradise, to rest 
them within the holy solitude of the Angelus. 
Soon they come, — the golden notes, and " All the 
hour is sweet with prayer." The sun, having run 
its triumphant course, spreads its burnished 
wings like a colossal phoenix, and consuming it- 
self in its own fires, dissolves upon the West, 
leaving a storm of blazing sparks upon the hori- 
zon. As though reflecting some vast conflagra- 
tion, the entire heavens send back an answering 
glow, and all the atmosphere is tinged with rose. 



280 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

In this light and at this hour, the entire popula- 
tion of Lourdes and the mighty caravan of pil- 
grims form one great procession to the grotto 
where the " Rosa Mystica " blooms invisibly. 

A temporar}^ altar is swiftly erected beneath 
the crimson skies, and the universe seems flushed 
with wonder and with expectation. The solemn 
benediction proceeds ; the voices of numberless 
worshipers blend in a mighty volume of sound 
that beats like the waves of a finite ocean upon 
the shores of the infinite. Suddenly, above the 
tremendous harmony, a clear, girlish voice in- 
fused with supernatural power, rises pure as crys- 
tal, strong as light : — " Cured ! Sancta Maria ! 
I can walk I " An electric thrill passes through 
the multitude ; here and there a voice proclaims 
the glorious tidings ; — " A miracle ! a miracle ! " 
But it is soon merged in the magnificent chant 
that is entoned with nobler volume, with re- 
newed devotion, with finer enthusiasm by the 
burning spirits of the worshipers. ISTot a pilgrim 
stirs prematurely from his place, not a human 
being in the vast congregation rushes forward to 
the spot where heaven's latest wonder has been 
wrought ; until the Sacred Host has been raised, 



THE ROCKS OF MASSABIELLE. 281 

and the multitude has prostrated as one man. 
Yerily the hour has become a Tabor, and the 
eyes of the pilgrims are about to behold the un- 
veiled glory of the Lord. 

Scarcely had the last note of the psalm that 
follows the benediction faded into silence, when 
the multitude surges into the grotto, as closely 
as possible pressing to the rocks of Massabielle. 
There kneeling by the spring, unsupported is a 
young paralytic, whom many beheld during the 
early hours of the day, in an invalid-chair wheeled 
by her devoted father. 

Springing lightly to her feet, as the pilgrims 
press around her, the girl exclaims once more, — 
" See ! I am cured. I can walk — Our Lady has 
healed me." 

The following morning, the little maiden 
walked unassisted and triumphant, into the ba- 
silica, before the eyes of the assembled multitude. 

Guided by the invisible power that fashions 
human destinies, through the press of the enor- 
mous throng. Father Yally obtains a place imme- 
diately in front of the grotto, and beholds the 
stupendous drama of the maiden's cure. It is as 
though the ages were rolled back, and the Man 



282 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

of Galilee moved once more among the people, 
speaking again the mighty word that made the in- 
firm whole, and called the mouldering dead from 
the marble portal of the tomb. An almost over- 
whelming sense of being environed, permeated 
and controlled by supreme force is felt by the 
young missionary. Omnipotence becomes tan- 
gible. Deity manifests itself to the senses, and 
the sublime gospel of the hour gives deeper in- 
sight to the spirit of Louis Yally and to the 
spirits of many in the awestruck multitude. As 
though the veil before Eternal Wisdom for the 
moment was cleft in twain, one ray of uncreated 
truth falls like pentecostal flame upon the souls 
of the believers, and the brooding spirit seems to 
whisper unto each, '' The strength of the Lord is 
immutable." " He shall ever be mindful of His 
covenant : He shall show forth unto His people 
the power of His works." And in every genera- 
tion of the human race, from the primeval age, 
w^hen the citizens of paradise walked visibly with 
man beneath the Tree of Life, has the Divine 
Energy suspended as well as sustained the nat- 
ural law : and until the final day when all matter 
will be merged in spirit, supreme power will 



THE ROCKS OF MASSABIELLE. 283 

manifest itself unto humanity, and the divine 
events that men call " miracles " be enacted in 
their midst. 

With a great silence upon heart and spirit, 
Louis Yally leaves the holy spot, all his being 
hushed with the deep awe that subdued the soul 
of Moses as he stood before the Burning Bush. 
From the mighty inspirations of the scene, the 
thoughts of our missionary turn with swift trans- 
ition to the beloved members of his distant 
flock. In this, his day of grace, and of illumina- 
tion, Louis Yally, under all circumstances the 
shepherd, is mindful, as in his hours of suffering, 
of the people of his predilection. And the shep- 
herd draws the Living Waters for his fold. For, 
after a night of calm has succeeded the tremen- 
dous events of the day, the first action of the 
son of the Yallys is to obtain an abundance of 
the sacred water for distribution in his American 
mission. 

Another wonderful day is spent beneath the 
shadows of the rocks of Massabielle ; the celes- 
tial drama repeats itself, painting each scene with 
living colors on the soul of the pastor of Merid- 
ian. Upon the evening of the third day, as the 



284 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

setting sun weaves a magnificent halo above the 
mighty basilica, turning the rock to purest gold, 
flooding the rustic shrine with a resembling 
glory, the wondrous light that emanated from 
the Celestial Beauty seen by Bernadette, our 
American missionaries bid adieu to Lourdes. 
And the stars that wake upon the tender twi- 
light, are not brighter than the stars of faith and 
hope and love that glow within their spirits. 




Eev. Mother de Sales Browne, 1877. 



CHAPTEE XYII 

SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE 

From the shrine within the grotto to the holy 
altar of his home the son of the Yalljs returns 
to tarry a brief span beside his parents' hearth- 
stone. 

Within the far-off American mission, the hand 
of duty lifts her sacred torch on high, .and pass- 
ing over land and sea, the light thereof sheds 
luminance upon the soul of the pastor of Meridian. 

With the supreme love that merges itself in 
the object beloved, the hearts of the simple peas- 
ants, Simon and Marie Tally, have become trans- 
figured, and their affectionate adieus to the child 
of their predilection, are marked by sublime for- 
titude. With the poet-priest of Southland, par- 
ents and son well may exclaim : 

" Adieu! it is the word for us; 

Yes, more than sound, 'tis prayer, 
They do not part who do part thus, 
For God is everywhere." 

As Simon Yally clasps his youngest son unto his 

285 



286 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

heart, does the shadow of the angel Azrael fall 
between them ? While the pastor of Meridian 
makes his short sojourn in his native village, 
Father Blanc, his companion du voyage, proceeds 
to his own home to say, like Louis Yally, the last 
adieus. 

Accompanied once more by his brother John, 
Father Yally rejoins Florimond Blanc in Paris. 
As upon their arrival in France, a few days are 
spent in the capital, by the American mission- 
aries. With the tiny treasure contributed by his 
beloved flock, Louis Yally purchased the beauti- 
ful vestments for his little church. And a crown 
for the Yirgin Mother, which, upon his return, he 
showed to all visitors at the presbytery, with the 
pride of an emperor displaying his royal jewels. 
The poor, worn missionary vestments can now be 
discarded and the superb regalia of the Eoman 
Catholic assumed ; for the palace of the King no 
fabric is too exquisite, no gold too pure, no gem 
too rare. Parting from John Yally at Havre, 
the missionaries committed themselves once more 
to the variant moods of the Atlantic ; but ever, 
in storm or calm, the " Star of the Ocean " led 
them on. And so, without incident, en voyage, 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 287 

the two sons of France found themselves within 
the harbor of New York, some ten days after 
sailing ; — missionaries indeed, and exiles once 
more. 

Less than forty-eight hours later, the wizard 
locomotive, annihilating the vast expanse of 
country between J^ew York and Mississippi, 
Father Blanc bids adieu to Father Yally at 
Aberdeen, and the Meridian pastor proceeds 
alone to his Mississippi presbytery. While he 
gathered spiritual immortelles amid old world 
shrines and the scenes of his childhood and youth, 
the sweet flowers of his planting within the little 
mission, exhale an ever increasing fragrance. 
From far and wide, the children began to flock 
to the rustic academy domiciled in St. Patrick's 
Hall. Israelites as well as Christians desired to 
place their little ones under the uplifting influ- 
ence of the devoted pastor. The limited accom- 
modations of the rustic schoolhouse begin to be 
inadequate ; and to meet the new conditions, 
Louis Yally turns again to the God-infused in- 
spirations that were never known to fail him. 
Deep in his spirit during all the 3^ears of his min- 
istry, has lived, like a hidden flower, the strong 



288 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

desire to enlist in his life-work the cooperation of 
those dauntless '^ rough riders " of the King, who 
minister to human society under the significant 
title of " Sisters of Mercy." Foremost always 
in the army of the Master, hewing with indomi- 
table spirits and the sword of renunciation, a 
pathway for the Hosts of the Lord, these valiant 
women are the Judiths of civilization, and with 
their fragile arms nerved by Jehovah, give the 
death-blow to ignorance and raise the milk-white 
standard of the Lamb upon the palisades of suf- 
fejing and crime. Pioneers by predilection and 
the letters patent of the Eternal Spirit, the vast 
standing army of the soldiers of sacrifice mar- 
shals its silent battalions beneath the humble 
roofs of convent and academy in time of civil 
peace ; and in seasons of war or scourges, marches 
forth and constitutes the advance guard of the 
Master's legions in the terrible struggle with 
death and destitution. Such are the recruits that 
our missionary determines to call to his aid. But 
in doing so, the shepherd stands, for the first 
time in his ministry, apart from, if not actually 
against, his little flock. With justifiable pru- 
dence, the members of the congregation look 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 289 

aghast upon the seemingly reckless impetuosity 
of their leader. While some degree of material 
prosperity has come to them during the period 
that has elapsed since the opening of the mission, 
the means and generosity of all have been 
strained to meet the increasing demands of the 
struggling congregation. Hence, at the mere 
idea of the additional outlay involved in the sup- 
port of a religious community, many candidly 
protest, and all recoil. While his little congrega- 
tion stand aloof, the zealous pastor, in nowise 
daunted, turns once more the golden key of 
prayer in the uncreated treasure house of the 
King. Imperishable riches lie within ; jewels 
rarer than Golconda's gems, gold more pure than 
that of Ophir. Drawing thence inexhaustible 
riches, Louis Yally proceeds calmly with his un- 
dertaking. He will begin the convent of Merid- 
ian with the same material that Teresa of Spain 
used in many of her foundations. Upon a corner 
stone of immutable faith, a substantial super- 
structure will inevitably rise ; and firmly, upon 
the Rock of Ages, his house will stand against 
the storm. To think is to act, with the son of 
Simon and Marie, and a letter is sent at once to 



290 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the superioress of St. Xavier's Convent at Yicks- 
burg, the mother-house of the Sisters of Mercy 
in the state of Mississippi, earnestly requesting 
her to send him some members of her community 
to open a convent and take charge of the school 
now urgently in need of a regular corps of 
teachers. JSTot withstanding the gravity of the 
circumstances, the irrepressible wit of the mis- 
sionary flashes forth at the end of the epistle. 
" I have everything but the house. Reverend 
Mother." With a heroism that matches his own, 
the superioress makes answer: "My daughters 
shall come whenever you are ready to receive 
them." A goodly tract of pine land belongs to 
the little demesne of the Church. And with this 
bit of solid earth beneath his project, Louis Yally 
turns to the consideration of the dwelling that 
must arise upon it out of nothingness, like the 
famed palace of Aladdin in the Arabian JSTights. 
Now, it chanced about that time, by one of those 
(ordained) accidents that shape the lives of men, 
that Messrs. Marks, Litchenstuns, merchants, 
having, in the course of commercial evolution, 
abandoned their old store on Front Street, for the 
stately proportions of a new building upon 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 291 

Twenty-third Avenue, offered the first mentioned 
habitat for sale, at a figure that would tempt the 
impecunious. The young missionary saw his op- 
portunity, and purchased the erstwhile dry-goods 
emporium after the fashion in which the weekly 
newspapers give us romances. But to transport 
a two-story building over some fourteen squares 
of uneven ground, was an enigma that dis- 
counted the problems of Euclid. Nevertheless, 
the undaunted pastor stands his ground. And 
solving the riddle a la Pater Familias and the 
bundle of sticks, forthwith directs the embryo 
convent to be taken apart, and hauled piecemeal 
to its present site near the presbytery. So vital 
a move of the castle having been made upon the 
chess-board, Louis Tally indites another letter to 
the Mother Superioress at Yicksburg, asking the 
immediate fulfilment of her promise to send him 
the Sisters. 

Not dreaming that she would be so soon called 
upon to redeem her pledge, and filled with 
amazement at the suddenness with which prepa- 
rations for their reception had been made, 
Keverend Mother de Sales appoints the little 
band of pioneers. Sister Mary Camillus Callis, 



292 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Sister Mary Bernard McGuire, a white nov- 
ice, and Sister Mary Germaine Martin, com- 
posed the heroic trio, to be led eastward by 
Sister Yincent Browne, the beloved superioress 
of the Jackson, Mississippi convent, from which 
she was recalled for the purpose. 

Reverend Mother de Sales was a veteran cam- 
paigner. She had ministered to the soldiers dur- 
ing the whole four years' struggle, and healed 
many a wound made by Union bullets. No offi- 
cer that served in the army of Robert Lee was 
more devoted to the "Conquered Banner," or 
endured more for the cause of the Confederacy. 
Strengthened by trial, and nourished upon sacri- 
fice, the spirit of this noble woman thrilled 
responsively to the enthusiasm of the missionary ; 
while her intellect, with faultless acumen, 
grasped at once the tremendous difficulties, the 
extreme privations, to which her little band of 
pioneers would be subject in the Meridian mis- 
sion. Gathering them around her as they were 
about to depart, the noble superioress remarked, 
her voice husky with emotion : — " Heaven will 
richly reward all of you who go out to the aid of 
this zealous missionary ; and so far as your ma- 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 293 

terial wants are concerned, you will ever find in 
the 'Little Father' a devoted friend who will 
share with you his last loaf." 

The afternoon of September 18, 1877, suc- 
ceeded one of those sombre days that come, anon, 
amid the gold and crimson splendors of the fall, 
when Autumn draws a mourning mantle over 
her regal robes, and weeps, like Esther, for the 
departed glory of her woodland kindred. 

In the fields, the uncouth stubble, blasted by 
the early frost, stands lank and sinister. A 
blight has fallen upon the royal forests, soaked 
with the ever descending rain. The brilliant 
robe of the sumac, proud cardinal of the South- 
ern woods, looks dull in the universal gray of sky 
and atmosphere. Heaven seems to withdraw its 
guardianship from earth, and all nature weeps as 
a new made orphan. 

JS'ight is closing prematurely in, and a pen- 
etrating drizzle oozes through the windows of the 
car, as the train bearing our four pioneers glides 
into the Meridian station. While the pullman is 
yet in motion, Louis Tally, mingling with the 
hotel porters, springs on board, and catching 
sight of the " Sisters of Mercy," exclaims in the 



294 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

orthodox twang of the professional cabman: — 
*' This way to the poorhouse ! " Catching his 
humor, the Sisters answer with merry smiles, 
and the request, " We wish to be conducted to 
St. Aloysius' Academy " (the name previously 
decided upon for the embryo institution). "I 
am the porter of that establishment," replies the 
missionary ; and, aided by Father Yigue, Tvho 
has accompanied him to the depot, seizes the Sis- 
ters' valises before the astonished travelers can 
remonstrate. Leaving their baggage to the care 
of the self-constituted valets, our pioneers are 
driven to their future home, — the discarded 
headquarters of the big dry-goods merchants. 
Somewhat bashful, because of being forced to 
play so novel a part, the battered frame building 
stood, like a great, overgrown, child that is made 
to say a speech ; the shutterless windows staring 
like wide-opened eyes, and its swollen front door, 
guiltless of steps, stretched like a gaping mouth 
in sheer astonishment. 

Beyond the threshold, however, Mrs. Scully, 
the reception committee of one, receives the 
daughters of Catherine Mac-Auley, with a Celtic 
embrace, and leads them into the little refectory 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 

where a comfortable supper has been spread. 
Meanwhile, the ecclesiastical porters arrive upon 
the scene, and their histrionic ability is once 
more called into play. With a power of imper- 
sonation that would have done credit to an 
Irving or Mansfield, the two missionaries trans- 
form themselves into butlers, and serve the be- 
wildered nuns during their inaugural repast. 
The banquet at an end, the faculty of the pros- 
pective academy are about to leave the refectory 
to make a tour of the new institution of learning, 
when Louis Yally steps quickly before them, his 
whole manner transformed, his countenance 
aglow with gratitude and the deep solemnity of 
the moment. Instantly, the mood of the party 
is changed. The supreme import of their under- 
taking thrills and glorifies the spirit of each. 
Soldiers of sacrifice indeed, they are about to 
furl their tents and march at the sound of the 
reveille of the King. Around them, in the am- 
buscades of fallacy and deceit, on the hills of 
human pride and power, on the watch-towers of 
bigotry and hatred, behind the breastworks of 
evil, and the battlements of ignorance and dis- 
order, the enemy are waiting, sleepless and 



296 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

vigilant. With a common impulse our pioneers 
fall upon their knees, and the pastor of Meridian 
imparts his solemn benediction. 

Exhausted by the fatigues and excitement of 
their journey, the daughters of Catherine Mac- 
Auley sleep dreamlessly that night. From 
dawn of the day before until sunset, an incessant 
drizzle had fallen ; and from dusk until dawn, 
the inexorable rain continued. The land im- 
mediately around the new convent having been 
disturbed in the process of moving the building, 
the freshly turned earth greedily sucks in the 
rain, and becomes speedily transformed into an 
almost impassible bog. Above this black morass, 
the leaden skies frown relentlessly, as our pio- 
neers awake the first morning in their new 
environment. The spirit of dampness has taken 
possession of all things. The building, shaken 
violently in its joints by the rough pilgrimage 
from Front Street, fairly reeks with moisture. 
Eain dribbles in at the shutterless windows, 
oozes from the plastering, and drops with 
maddening regularity, down the chimneys ; a 
clammy sweat exudes from walls and furniture. 
In the culinary department, the rain has poured 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 297 

all night into the stove, and the scanty breakfast 
of our soldiers of sacrifice must be taken cold 
after the manner of hardy campaigners. Almost 
as cut off from the outside world as though on 
some desert island, by the deplorable condition 
of the roads, the new faculty of " St. Aloysius' 
Academy " finds itself in a state of blockade. 
Hour after hour passes slowly by : another 
reeking day deepens into cheerless night, another 
and another, and still the inhabitants of the 
*' academy " are stormbound in their stronghold, 
locked therein by the evil genii of the mud. 
During this doleful siege waged upon them by 
the elements, only the intrepid missionary, and 
sturdy Mrs. Scully, clad in her " gude manne's " 
boots, venture to brave the treacherous quagmire. 
The four chairs belonging to the establishment 
have been moved in all directions, beating dis- 
creet retreat before the encroaching leaks. The 
dry-goods boxes in the commissary, that do duty 
for tables (the same being the handiwork of our 
missionary), grow damp in sympathy with their 
environment, and plates and platters slide 
jocosely from the fingers of the pioneers. The 
countless army of the raindrops lays siege to 



298 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the citadel of our soldiers; it has taken the 
outer ramparts, and invaded the courtyard, but 
the inner chambers remain inviolate. Deep 
w^ithin the souls of the daughters of Catherine 
Mac-Auley the sun of faith is shining. Tempests 
may beat upon the temple of the body, but no 
storm can touch the calm within. And so, with 
jest and banter and all-compelling pra3^er, the 
leaden days are turned to bright. The sombre 
clouds that have saddened the heart of Louis 
Yally because of the cheerless installation of our 
volunteers, are scattered by the cheery voices 
that may be heard within the convent. As our 
soldiers assemble in the bleak community room, 
their anxious captain steals noiselessly into the 
soaking basement of the academy, and listens 
intently for some sound that will assure him that 
his recruits have not lost courage, or regretted 
the heroic sacrifice made in coming to his aid. 

From some unknown source, toilet articles and 
promiscuous pieces of furniture begin to find 
their way to the besieged ; at which the soldiers 
wonder greatly ; but, one day, while seated at 
their own table the mystery is solved. Popping 
her bandannaed head into the refectory. Aunt 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 299 

Lucy, the sable recruit of the presbytery, un- 
ceremoniously exclaims with the suddenness and 
vehemence of a catapult : — " Y' all got Father 
Tally's spoons!" A bombshell exploded within 
the barracks of the besieged, could not have 
startled our soldiers more effectually. Spring- 
ing involuntarily from their chairs, in sheer 
astonishment at the doughty blockade runner, 
the truant spoons within their hands fall with a 
clang upon the table. Seeing this, the indomi- 
table African pushes her portly person against 
the swollen door, wriggles into the mess room 
with the facility of a jack-rabbit, and, before the 
astonished pioneers can remonstrate, rakes the 
coveted utensils into her apron, firing, mean- 
while, a fusilade of accusation ; — " Y' all got 
Father Tally's tubs, and Father Tally's cheers, 
and Father Tally's kettles, an' I gwine to hav' 
'em, or I ain' done come from So'th Ca'lina ! " 
And having thus delivered herself, the sable 
member of the firm of "I and Father Tally," 
makes a raid with an expedition that would have 
given points to the followers of jSTapoleon. 
Limp with amazement, merriment and incipient 
indignation, our pioneers look on helpless and 



300 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

unprotesting ; and when Aunt Lucy beats a re. 
treat, the soldiers fall in line and march to the 
oratory, where they make a meditation upon the 
locust plague of Egypt ! 

That night, the inmates of the barrack had 
restless slumber. Sundry mysterious thumps 
punctuated their dreams, and uncanny footsteps 
were heard on the lower floor. It was as though 
all the spirits of the storm had entered through 
the accommodating cracks, and were inaugu- 
rating Walpurgis below, l^ext morning, the 
crestfallen pioneers descended to the commissary 
prepared to stand on the places w^here the chairs 
ought to have been ; but presto ! every article 
carried off by the sable marauder the day before 
had been mysteriously returned during the hours 
of darkness. And the sun came out to enjoy the 
joke, and the earthly sun was followed by the 
Primal Source of light, the Sun of Justice shone 
on the altar brought to Meridian by the pioneers, 
and the great Sacrifice was celebrated for the 
first time in the tiny chapel of the academy. 
With the King Himself at the head of their forces, 
the intrepid band could march fearlessly onward. 

The sunlit days that preceded the Sabbath, 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 301 

brought some of the kindly folk of the village 
to greet the daughters of Catherine Mac-Auley. 
And on the beautiful Sabbath itself, — one of 
those royal days, when Indian Summer, like 
a gypsy queen, seems to hold her court within 
the forest, High Mass was sung in the Meridian 
church, and the magnificent Te Deum chanted 
by the heart and voice and spirit of the young 
missionary, and his assistant, Father Yigue, who 
was still the guest of the presbytery. After the 
solemn service, the little ones of the congregation 
gathered around the intrepid volunteers and one 
of their number, a graceful maid of thirteen 
summers, voicing the loving greetings of all, 
stood upon the front steps of the church, and ex- 
tended a heartfelt welcome to the women hence- 
forth to be the guides and teachers of their youth. 
The world awakens, once more, to its labor 
after the Sabbath rest, and the doors of St. 
Aloysias' Academy, and the hearts of its faculty 
are opened to the tin}^ citizens of the Kingdom. 
It is the Feast of Our Lady of Mercy, the 
patroness of the order, and the banner of the 
Queen unfurls its holy, blue within the little 
schoolroom. The only desk, — that formerly 



302 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

possessed by Miss Murdock, is drawn for by the 
faculty of the embryo academy. One of them 
must work minus this adjunct, in the simple way 
that the Great Teacher spake unto the multitude 
of Judea, — without pulpit or rostrum, the words 
of peace and power. The sun, as if trying to com- 
pensate for his previous suUenness, shines with 
unusual brilliancy. Cool, fragrant air laden 
with the breath of " sweet olive " finds its way 
through the open windows of the new institution 
giving freshness to the body, as the vital breath 
of the Supreme Spirit breathes over the spirit of 
the teachers, infusing therein new energy and 
inspirations. Through the now wide open door, 
the fleckless sky shines like a block of lapis- 
lazuli. Anon, the gaze of both teacher and 
pupils wanders to the beautiful world without. 
JS'ot upon the glittering landscape, however, but 
upon the little gate of the presbytery their 
anxious looks are directed ; for the zealous 
missionary, the leading spirit of the new move- 
ment, the raison d'etre of the infant academy, 
the inaugurator and sustainer of St. Patrick's 
School, fails to appear among the children of his 
predilection ! As the golden hours wear on to 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 303 

twilight, and twilight passes w^ith noiseless tread 
to make way for the glorious star-jewelled night, 
the Sisters can no longer suppress their increas- 
ing anxiety in behalf of the missionary. Going, 
half fearfully, to the little presbytery, their 
hearts oppressed with dread that some sudden ill 
might have overtaken the pastor, the pioneers 
are greeted at the door by the ex-marauder. 
" I an' Father Yally not 'ceivin' to-night," 
jerkily announces the sable janitress, sturdily re- 
fusing to open the door further than a crack. 
" And why is Father Yally not receiving, 
auntie ? " ventured our most intrepid soldier, — 
her solicitude deepening for the missionary's 
welfare nerving her to face the enemy. " Why 
is Father Yally not receiving ? He has not 

been near us all day " But the impatience 

of the South Carolinian cannot wait to hear the 
rest of the sentence, "/and Father Yally ?^6'^5 
receiving 'cause he done gone away ! " " Gone 
away ! " repeated the daughters of Catherine 
Mac-Auley, " gone away ! " " Yes, gone away ; " 
reiterates the invincible Abigail ; " yes, gone 
away. Ain't there cyars enough to travel on ? 
an' don't the cyars go to Bay St. Louis ? an' ain't 



304: FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Father Yally gone to Bay St. Louis to take 
Mars' Peter Higgins' boys to Santa Claus 
College?" (St. Stanislaus.) 

Father Yally gone to Bay St. Louis ! Dumb- 
founded, the sisters gaze upon each other. Here 
is a baffling enigma 1 Louis Yally gone to Bay 
St. Louis ! on this day of all days ! The day of 
his prayers, of his longings, of his anticipation, 
of his triumph ! Louis Yally the mainspring of 
the undertaking, the cause of their leaving the 
mother house in Yicksburg, for the numberless 
hardships of the Meridian mission ! Still mute 
with astonishment, our soldiers return, disheart- 
ened, to the academy. The captain has seem- 
ingly deserted the field in the moment of vic- 
tory. Amazed, disappointed, depressed, the pio- 
neers had little sleep during the night that fol- 
lowed their visit to the rectory. Late on 
the evening of the morrow — a day of gloomy 
skies unrelieved by the sunny presence of the 
missionary, and of spirits made heavy, by his un- 
accountable absence, the sorely puzzled daughters 
of Catherine Mac-Auley were assembled in the 
community room when their truant captain, 
wilted, crestfallen, and a trifle shy, made his sud- 



SOLDIERS OF SACRIFICE. 305 

den appearance in their midst. Before the 
storm of questions had lulled, Louis Yally, walk- 
inof to the middle of the room, with the look and 
tone of an urchin who has played " hookey," but 
is brave enough to own up to it, almost petrified 
the pioneers by the statement : — " To tell you 
the truth. Sisters, I ran away, the long and 
the short of it, I ran away. I couldn't face 
the music. It seized me suddenly, the terror — • 
yes, actual terror — and it shook me like the ague. 
I was panic-stricken by the fear that after all of 
our toils and privations, and longings, the people 
wouldn't send their children to the school, for I 
had stood against them. It was too much for 
human nature. My own disappointment I could 
bear, — but yours ! I ran away, but I've come 
back again, we'll see the academy permanently 
established, or we'll know the reason why." 
After all, he was only off on furlough, signed 
and sealed by the Divine Commander-in-chief. 
It was one of those periods of mental reaction to 
which great souls are peculiarly liable, and which 
bind them more closely to the heart of human- 
ity, by the strong, though invisible cords of 
Adam. 



CHAPTER XYIII 

THE ANGEL AZRAEL 

A GRAY note mingles with the yellow light of 
the fall of 1878, darkening its topaz glory. Is it 
a shadow cast by the brooding wings of some 
nameless sorrow, — the gloom that falls from 
some intangible but awful Presence ? One day, 
as the red sun gold of October rolls a glowing 
carpet down the forest aisles, and the country 
roads that thread the woodland, the Spirit of 
Death moves silently through the glittering 
ways, and unveils her awful countenance in the 
Meridian mission. 

The people look upon her but know her not. 

Again, the people look upon her, and from out 
the past dread memories come forth, and the 
people know the Spirit. 

A great fear comes upon them. Prom the 
length and breadth of the hamlet is heard the 
voice of lamentation. 

But the Spirit remains in their midst, immova- 
ble, inexorable. 

306 



THE ANGEL AZRAEL. 307 

For a time the naked hearts of the people beat 
upon the heart of the terrible stranger in wild 
protest, in incoherent pleading ; — now reading 
their doom in the stern, sealed look of the 
Spirit's countenance, the people in one mad 
moment of human terror, flee, panic-stricken 
from the face of the visitant. 

For a few stormy days, days of mental stress 
and travail, the inhabitants of the little hamlet 
surge hither and tliither. The October gold 
seems turned to lead ; and the gold within hu- 
man nature, transformed into dross. 

" Life ! life only ! " is the cry of the tempestu- 
ous hearts. " Give us life, human life, at any 
cost ; — the life to which earth and air and fire 
and sea must minister. Let us live, if we live 
only to suffer ! " 

And the Presence in their midst, the Death 
Angel, speaks with pale, beautiful lips : " De- 
luded earth-sons, children of the dust and seek- 
ers of phantoms, behold ! I offer you life^ and 
you seek its shadow. I offer you Truth, — ^you 
chase its phantom ; — I offer you Eternity, you 
cling to time ! " 



308 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

And through all the wailing and the desola- 
tion, the Spirit stood immovable. 

And the people fled; old men and children, 
mothers bearing suckling babes; strong men, 
wild eyed with fear ; young maidens, unkempt, 
disheveled, hunted down by supreme terror of 
the yellow death, like fawns by a bloodhound. 
In long, fantastic procession they fled to the lit- 
tle station ; the outgoing passenger trains were 
gorged with humanity ; men wrestled like gladi- 
ators for places upon freight and baggage cars. 
The newly inaugurated academy in session at 
noon with its full quota of pupils, was deserted 
by evening. Before nightfall of the third day 
of the stranger's presence, a pall of silence was 
drawn over the little village. Only here and 
there, as the twilight trod tenderly, fearing that 
even her mufiied footsteps would waken some 
fevered sleeper, the weird wails of household 
animals, abandoned in the sudden exodus, sent 
hurried discord through the darkness. 

]^ot in Meridian alone, but through the whole 
stricken South, — gathering the aftermath of hu- 
man lives left by the demon of battle, the Death 
Spirit had passed ; her strong right hand armed, 



THE ANGEL AZRAEL. 309 

not with torch, or steel, but with the fearful 
fever, — the loathsome yellow viper of the Gulf 
States, more detestible, more insidious than the 
venom of the cobra. Again, as in the awful 
years of war, the voice of Eachel is heard la- 
menting for her sons. Intoxicated by that 
strong hasheesh, the instinct of self-preservation, 
— kinsman has abandoned kinsman, friend has for- 
gotten friend, child has deserted parent, husband 
has parted from wife. The flock of the young 
missionary is scattered by the savage fen wolf of 
fear, and the soul of the Yallys' son has gone 
down once more into the dark vale of despond- 
ency, into which all sensitive spirits must de- 
scend anon. His poor are abandoned, his little 
ones drift hither and thither ; within the tiny 
sanctuary there are none to hear the voice of the 
King ; and, — more deplorable than all, the sick, 
the dying, have no one to minister unto them. 
Here and there along the dreary streets, are 
houses with doors and gates nailed up and bar- 
ricaded, their tenants having fled in the wild 
exodus that first morning of the Spirit's presence 
in the mission. At intervals, a haggard face, 
aged by terror, peers between the partly opened 



310 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

shutters, closiDg them to with brutal haste as a 
pedestrian passes outside, for very fear that the 
stranger may communicate the yellow plague. 
Even the gentle force of charity seems powerless 
to make entrance into such hearts and homes. 
Anon, a dim light betokens the presence of a 
sleepless sufferer. Occasionally, a swaying fig- 
ure, newly stricken by the fever, brushes against 
the pastor in the semi-darkness of the night, — a 
darkness made lurid at intervals by the forked 
tongues of the bonfires, the eerie lights of burn- 
ing disinfectants, and through all, the pungent, 
penetrating odor of coal tar. Huge teams groan 
beneath their burden of ominous-looking boxes 
bearing the gruesome tenants thereof to the little 
cemetery, now gorged, like a ghoul, upon a feast 
of corruption. Sometimes an opened window 
woos the midnight air to the breast of the dy- 
ing. Here, glazing eyes burn with the light 
eternal, — death is quenched in life, the shadows 
flee before the sun. There, eyes are freezing 
with the nameless dread that sees only death, 
feels only death, within, around. By such bed- 
sides, Louis Vally, drawing his surplice over his 
eyes sobs as only strong men can sob. Through 



THE ANGEL AZRAEL. 311 

scenes like these, the missionary moves day and 
night, for he must be continually vigilant, ever 
in readiness to perform his sacred duties. 

As the stars come out in the dark, so the light 
of strong and beautiful character shines brightly 
in an environment of gloom. Amid the shadows 
of eofotism and the ni^rht of human terror that 
closes in upon his little mission, the golden na- 
ture of the Yallys' son asserts itself ; and so it 
comes to pass, that he is called by the people 
''The sunshine of the streets of Meridian." 
Thus the heavy days move on, the little hamlet 
becomes a charnel house ; the peculiar, loathsome 
odor exhaled by the yellow plague, breathes pol- 
lution upon the warm, languorous air, from the 
purifying frost spirits shrink far back into the 
chaste womb of the northern ice. Day and 
night, ghastly, stiffened forms, — the rotting 
husks that clothed immortal spirits, stare into 
vacancy and are hustled into a common gaping 
grave, before the afterglow of life is frozen by 
the supreme cold of the universe. 

The daughters of Catherine Mac-Auley come 
forth from their habitation, and the black veiled 
Sisterhood are the only women seen upon the 



312 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

deserted streets. Hourly, the desolation deep- 
ens ; but the stern and terrible visitant stands 
in the midst of the people, immovable, inexora- 
ble. Somewhere, infinite darkness in the star- 
less night of spiritual and of mental desolation, 
the foul wings of despair unfurl, shedding upon 
the souls of the people a still more terrible 
gloom. Deeper and deeper its harpj-like talons 
are thrust into the hearts of the sufferers, the 
unclean fangs inflicting loathsome wounds 
therein. Even the strong spirit of our mission- 
ary wavers for an awful instant, then, leans more 
heavily upon the heart of the Christ. It is in 
such crucial moments that the King works. 
When every human hand is powerless, when every 
human strategy is spoiled, the Master speaks : 
and out of chaos is born the light. And so, at 
the mandate of the King, material help comes to 
the stricken community from the great philan- 
thropist Howard, unto whose spirit the Most 
High has given the accolade of knighthood. The 
tortured hearts of His people, the Sovereign 
must touch with His own right hand. And lo ! 
the Invisible moves in their midst, the Friend of 
Lazarus, the widow of Nain, of Jairus and his 



THE ANGEL AZRAEL. 313 

little maid. And the Spirit that stilled the Sea 
of Galilee calms the deep ocean of the people's 
anguish. When the sorrowful heart of Louis 
Yally knows that aid is at hand for the little 
community, a new and wonderful energy thrills 
through the spirit, and the body of him, recharg- 
ing his entire nature with power and courage ; 
the whole man is recreated. The oppressive 
dread that crushed his spirit to the dust, was the 
burden of his people's woe, not fear for his own 
possible doom, though to the foreigner, the 
Frenchman, the yellow monster of the Gulf 
States is a morbidly dreaded foe. 

A local branch of the " Howard Association " 
is formed, and the son of the Yallys becomes one 
of its most active members. Daily, in his own 
person, he embodies the sweet cognomen " Merid- 
ian sunshine," bestowed upon him at this period, 
by the stricken inhabitants of the little town. 
Hourly, momentl}^, he brings sunshine to the 
spirits and to the hearts of the suffering. As 
the weeks wear on, the baleful power of the 
fearful visitant inoculates the entire community 
with venom. JSTot a home remains uninfected, — 
the convent of Mercy and the little presbytery 



314 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

alone excepted. Within the latter, Aunt Lucy, 
the sable aide-de-camp of the missionary, stays 
sturdily on. " Yaller fever is white folks' dis- 
ease — can't cotch niggers, kase dey black, an' 
't wouldn't show on 'em." And so Aunt Lucy 
stays on, and rings the bell of the little church 
at Angelus time — the only bell that sounds in 
the village during the leaden-footed days of that 
ghastly autumn. 

" It tell de fokes dey gwine to hebben," Aunt 
Lucy is wont to exclaim. And as the call to 
prayer sounds through the vale, the baleful, 
olive-scented atmosphere, many a loosened soul 
floats out into eternity, mingling, like the voice 
of the bell, with the outer circles of the infinite. 
And to Jew and Gentile, it tells of prayer, and 
hope and peace. 

Within the academy, the teachers are trans- 
formed into trained nurses, performing alter- 
nately the duties of visiting the sick, and of 
preparing nourishment for the victims of the 
fever. All the fowls within the village have 
been utilized to make life-sustaining broth for 
the invalids ; the inmates of the little barnyard 
of the presbytery alone remain. With an eye to 



THE ANGEL AZRAEL. 315 

the possible emergencies of her beloved principal, 
the South Carolinian sturdily refuses to sacrifice 
his poultry. His nerves, strained to the utmost 
tension, his brain racked by the exhaustion of 
incessant vigils, the master of the presbytery 
silently allows the aide-de-camp to have her way. 
As time passes on, however, the need of the sick 
grows more and more urgent. Wishing, in his 
great weariness, to avoid an encounter with Aunt 
Lucy, but determined to offer his fowls for the 
relief of the suffei'ers, Louis Yally steals, in the 
*' sma' hours " into his barnyard, and extracts his 
own poultry with more trepidation than a scout 
would smuggle himself through the enemy's lines. 
In the gray dawn, tottering from the fatigue of 
a night of ministry, the missionary conveys the 
fowls to the convent kitchen, and creeps silently 
back to his humble domicile before the harsh 
creak of the front door sounds the reveille of the 
foe. Graduall}^, despite the stony countenance 
of the visitant in their midst, through the gloom 
of death, the anguish of spirit and body, the 
" Sunshine of the streets of Meridian " begins to 
illumine, inflame, and recreate the weary souls 
within the little hamlet. Men in despair, be- 



316 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

cause of financial as well as physical conditions, 
feel the dull agony of despondency abate beneath 
the inspiring influence of the missionary's ex- 
ample. Peace unfurls her white wings above 
them like a visible presence. But while his love 
and his labor shed refreshing calm upon the 
hearts of the people, the heart of Louis Yally is 
torn by one of those mighty spiritual crises, that, 
like cataclasms, rend the soul of man, leveling its 
mountain peaks and exalting its valleys. News 
of the death of Eev. John H. McManus, a vic- 
tim of the epidemic, of the hopeless condition of 
Rev. John Baptiste Mouton, and of the seizure 
of Eight Reverend Wm. Henry Elder, his more 
than father, in the horrid grasp of the yellow 
demon, bows the head and spirit of the son of 
Simon and Marie into the dust. Alone in his 
little sanctuary, for the space of three hours, his 
spirit hangs on Golgotha, and the shadow of 
the Holy Mountain never leaves his life again. 
Home, kindred, country, he has long since for- 
saken, for the home and kinship of Eternal 
Truth ; only the ties of the spirit remain, the 
supreme, sacred friendship of soul and soul, — the 
union of his mind with other minds that have in- 



THE ANGEL AZRAEL. 317 

fused power and strength into his own. Such 
had been his companionship with John McManus, 
with John Baptiste Mouton, — more than all, with 
the Bishop of Mississippi. Now the strong light- 
nings of the Lord are flashing ; they wither the 
tendrils that twine about his soul; and, for the 
nonce, his spirit totters unsupported above the 
tomb where hope lies buried by the distraught 
sons of men. For the first time, the missionary 
shrinks from the terrible face of the visitant. 

It is the feast of St. Michael, the strong arch- 
angel, the victorious wrestler with the spirit of 
evil, the commander-in-chief of the Spirits of 
Light. A swift inspiration comes to the soul of 
Louis Yally. A short invocation, — one wrench 
of the spirit, from the clutches of illusion — ■ 
St. Michael to the rescue ! Faith, which is power, 
must conquer, for the light of faith is crowned 
in the universe of God ! 

Absorbed in his great struggle, the son of 
Lavaudieu does not hear the swift step of the 
Sister of Mercy, who comes, by way of the sac- 
risty, into the church. It is to call the priest to 
a passing Christian. Appalled by the look upon 
the missionary's face, an expression at once so 



318 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

sorrowful and so sweet, for the spirit's tempest 
leaves its rainbows, the Daughter of Catherine 
Mac-Auley pauses a few paces from the door : — 
" They have sent for jou. Father, for one who is 
departing." " I come, — good Sister, sta}^ — " as 
the messenger is about to withdraw, " pray for 
me, jpray for me this day. I have passed through 
fierce temptation ; the epidemic is robbing me of 
all I have." 

The strong manna of prayer, the supreme chan- 
nel by which the Divine Essence enters into and 
nourishes the soul of man, has recreated the 
spirit of the missionary. Another step toward 
the inner circle of life, and Truth has been taken 
by Louis Yally, and henceforth the " Sunshine of 
the streets of Meridian " illumines the little vil- 
lage with nobler, holier light. Spiritual strength, 
like a powerful electric current, thrills and vivi- 
fies all it touches ; and from the virile personality 
of their pastor, new strength and sweetness goes 
forth to his people. His brief hours of repose 
are more and more curtailed. Grappling everj^ 
moment with the pestilence, overworked, over- 
wrought, his system totally depleted, any hour 
may number him among the stricken. And so 



THE ANGEL AZRAEL. 319 

the Daughters of Catherine Mac-Auley arrange a 
signal, and a crimson-shaded lamp is given the 
missionary. When its red star shall shine from 
the window of the presbytery, the soldiers of 
sacrifice will know that their captain has become 
a victim, that the rescuer must be rescued. 
Meanwhile, Louis Yally moves from home to 
home, from bedside to bedside, from grave to 
grave ; — grave of Catholic, and non-conformist, 
of Israelite and of unbeliever, made brethren in 
the vast cono-reo^ation of death. 

When the epidemic reaches its zenith, few are 
left to shroud the departed, or to bear the dis- 
carded clay back to the great earth mother ; and 
in the solemn hours of the night, when the dread 
Presence weaves her fatal spell more closely 
about the village, the missionary mounts the 
mortuary cart, and drives final passengers to their 
final resting-place. Frequently, laboring with 
his own hands, he upturns the warm fragrant 
soil, fashioning a bed for the stark inmates of the 
narrow boxes. The mysterious stars look down 
as he toils, — toils like the hardy apostles, like the 
strong men of old, who lived by the spirit of the 
law. But if Louis Yally labors for his people 



320 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

from dawn to sunset and from sunset until dawn, 
one hour of the twenty-four is kept inviolate. 
Between five and six in the afternoon of every 
day, the soldier keeps vigil with his King ; and 
in the silence that flows about the tabernacle, 
draws the strength that nerves his heart and 
hand for their renewed endeavor. Sometimes, 
overcome by excessive fatigue, he falls asleep at 
the Master's feet. 

As the dread work of death goes on, the sol- 
diers of sacrifice over the barracks of the Lord, 
begin to suffer more and more keenly from the 
privations of the times. Worn by incessant 
watching the sick and dying and emaciated, be- 
cause of insufficient nourishment, for the village 
is practically in a state of siege — the Daughters 
of Catherine Mac- Auley find themselves reduced to 
the most meagre diet by w^hich life can be sus- 
tained. Every fowl within reach must be given 
to the sufferers, of fresh meat there is none in 
the hamlet. '' But not by bread alone does man 
live;" and nourished by the manna of the word, 
the valiant women push on their immortal work 
in human souls. And the soldiers are cheery as 
becomes good warriors, and between missionary 



THE ANGEL AZRAEL. 321 

and nuns the banter passes, that when the frost 
jewels shine upon the stricken town, a savory 
chicken pie shall be baked, of which captain and 
soldiers will partake. So brightly flows the life 
on which the light of God is shining ; though the 
stream may glide through Saharas of privation, 
through rocky canyon of self-sacriiice, the dawn 
is in its bosom, and through all environments, 
unfurls the bannerettes of light. 
■The violence: of the epidemic begins to abate* 
Inch by inch, the fangs of the yellow monster 
withdraw from the lacerated hearts of the peo- 
ple. The Dread Presence veils her sphynx-like 
countenance, and moves slowly toward the for- 
est. Like a bride arrayed for the nuptials of a 
king, the Feast of, All Saints comes forth attended 
by the white-robed spirits of the frost. They 
kindle a million gems upon tree and hedgerow, 
they weave a shining carpet for the village 
streets, they swing glittering garlands upon eaves 
and fences, they glorify the graves of the newly- 
buried, and they quicken the hearts of the living 
with keen and jubilant hope. 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE PALACE OF THE KING 

Feom the vestibule of the mystical palace of 
love, through the golden court of noble human 
friendship, and into the inner chamber of the 
King's mansion, where solitude builds a sanctuary 
for the Lamb, the son of Simon and Marie is led 
by the guardian spirit of his destiny. 

News comes one day from far Lavaudieu, of 
the passing of his paternal parent, the gentle and 
beloved father, the friend and confidant of his 
exiled son. And, following that loss, after a 
brief interval, a message is received by Louis 
Yally from his soul's dear comrade, M. Yigue, 
announcing that he, Father Yigue, will leave the 
outer world, with its noise as of many waters, 
and enter into the quiet where no sound is heard 
save the whisper of the King. Friend in the 
supreme sense of the word, has Marcellus Yigue 
been to the son of the Yallys. Friend of his 
heart, and later of his spirit, the elder priest 

322 



THE PALACE OF THE KING. 323 

having held for years, the office of confessor to 
our missionary. 

To the Roman Catholic, who knows the spirit- 
ual communion, the touch of soul and soul im- 
plied between priest and penitent, in the Great 
Tribunal, the loss of such a guide gives keenest 
suffering to the moral nature. What Plato and 
Socrates and Epictetus were to their disciples, 
what Pericles was to Athens, what all teachers 
and supreme prophets have been to their fol- 
lowers, that, and infinitely more, is the enlight- 
ened confessor to the Roman Catholic conscience. 
A bereavement beyond all other bereavements, 
is his loss, because a loss that affects directly the 
life and progress of the spirit. True the Maker 
of the human soul is the first and ultimate 
leader, and the destiny of every spirit lies in 
His individual will; the office of the Catholic 
priest is not to supply, but to foster the divine 
institution, to protect the wheat thereof from the 
cockle and the tares. 

Some souls there are that can only achieve 
their destinies and take their proper place in the 
universe of spirit, by withdrawing themselves 
from . the social order. Fragrant herbs that 



324 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

reach perfection by burial in the sod and the 
shadow ; they resemble those insects that mature 
in prison-like chrysalids. 

Such souls must wear human life as a husk, 
they burst their chrysalis only at the touch of 
death. 

They have their mission in the scheme of 
things, and it is a mission of exaltation and of 
power. 

All the contemplative orders in the Eoman 
Catholic Church are composed of such men, and 
notable among them is the order of Trappists. 

When a single thought flashes, arrow-like 
through the universe, launched upon an eternal 
career, modifying and moulding in a greater or 
less degree, the lives and destinies of creatures, 
what awful power must the virile meditation of 
a community of strong men exercise upon the 
plastic universe of mind ! 

To the comradeship of these silent leaders, the 
unknown Gladstones and Disraelis of humanity, 
Marcellus Yigue had received the appointment 
of the King. The missionary priest needs the 
preparation for his journey ; for his goods, like 
those of Christian's may generally be carried 



THE PALACE OF THE KING. 325 

upon liis shoulder, upon bis pilgrimage to the 
Celestial City. But, with Marcellus Yigue there 
is his old horse Charlie, to be disposed of, for he 
has bestowed upon the animal the peculiar love a 
lonely man gives to a dumb companion. 
Charlie is a missionary himself, and Charlie has 
often borne the King beneath the reverent 
boughs of the forest aisles. So, with a pang 
that only the solitary can know, Charlie is given 
to his dearest friend, and from that day becomes 
the comrade of Louis Yally. 

Few words break the silence of the journey, as 
the pastor of Meridian accompanies Marcellus 
Yigue to the Trappist monastery at Gethsemane, 
Kentucky. 

No sound is heard in the old courtyard of 
Gethsemane. So inviolate is the calm that shy 
doves have made their home by the moss-grown 
well and above the statue of St. Bernard, its 
tutelar guardian of the grounds, they coo their 
love words and rear their young. At the end of 
the garden enclosure, the great pile of the mon- 
astery looms gravely against the sunset. Within 
its solemn portal, long dim arcades reverberate 
the footfalls of the newcomers. Everywhere, 



326 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

above the twilight cells above hall and stairway 
and chapter-room, stone upon stone, the sacred 
invisible palace of the King, the mighty temple 
of silence lifts its eternal battlements on high ; 
and in this temple face to face with Truth and 
Calm, within this temple where the spirit of man 
unfurls its wings and souls grow God-like, walk 
the mute, strong brethren of the Trappists. 

With the very atmosphere of the place, some- 
thing of the magnitude, the unique glory of his 
friend's vocation, dawns upon Louis Yally ; and, 
with a reverence akin to awe, his gaze rests upon 
M. Yigue, leaving his friend only to greet the 
noble Abbot, who bids them welcome with 
gracious word and mien. A slight suggestion of 
the court lends peculiar dignity to the words 
and bearing of this remarkable Trappist, — a 
certain princely ease marks him to " the manner 
born." In the w^orld of men, the Abbot of 
Gethsemane has borne the name of Bourbon. 
Called yet higher by the King of Kings he 
entered his Tuilleries of Silence. 

Passing into the monastery chapel at twilight, 
when the first moonbeam touches the great Cruci- 
fix, making it tower, luminous and vast over the 



THE PALACE OF THE KING. 327 

solemn, cowled heads of the brethren, like the 
cross in Tissot's paintings, Louis Yally feels him- 
self face to face with God, the great facts of the 
spiritual life becoming solid, cognizable realities. 
]^ow, the " Salve Kegina " is entoned in the 
peculiar chant used by the Trappists, a chant 
from which nearly all the melody is extracted, 
leaving only the monotonous wail. But, as 
though the moonbeam itself, pleading for the 
banished spirit of music, has clothed itself in 
human voice, silver and clear and resonant, 
threading the gloom of the chant and the chapel, 
as crystal waters thread a dark morass, comes 
harmony such as Father Yally has never heard be- 
fore. Leaning eagerly forward in the dusk, the 
missionary endeavors to trace the wondrous music 
to its source. As the service concludes, and the 
sandal-shod brethren pass into the inner chambers 
of the mystical palace, Louis Yally grasps the Ab- 
bot's arm, exclaiming as he does so : — *' The voice! 
Father, the voice ! surely the . world holds not 
its equal." " Truly, my son," replies the venerable 
host, " all visitors are likewise impressed. It is the 
voice of a famous opera singer, who abandoned 
his career, and came to Gethsemane, when at the 



328 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

zenith of iiis greatness. He sings now only in 
the presence of the King." 

The following day, as the evening shadows 
gather like vestals to a sacrifice, Louis Yally and 
Marcellus Yigue walk slowly down the courtyard, 
side by side, urging their reluctant steps past 
the mating doves and the mild St. Bernard on 
toward the porte cochere of the monastery, and 
— the last farewell. 

Never again, as far as human foresight can 
predict, will they feel the pressure of one 
another's hands, or hear the words of one 
another's lips. Great tears spring to the eyes of 
both, as the janitor swings open the clanging 
gates ; — one strong embrace, and the bodies of 
the friends are torn apart. But the spirits of 
them, triumphant and exultant, pass together on 
the great Way Eternal ; for no height, nor 
depth, nor time, nor space, nor any incident in 
human life, nor death, nor God, can separate 
those kindred souls who dwell in the countless 
chambers of the King's mansion. And though 
the desert unfurls its sands, the ocean rolls its 
blue immensity, or the pallid marble of the 
tomb keeps sentinel between them, the spirit 



THE PALACE OF THE KIXG. 329 

may seek and find its dear companion spirit and 
hold with it a sweet communion. 

And besides the uncreated palace where 
Supreme Wisdom makes His throne-room, the 
Xing has also chosen to dwell in earthly temples, 
where souls too feeble to unbar the solemn gates 
of Silence may have continual audience. Of 
wood, and brick, and stone, all the simple prod- 
ucts of His gardens, and the labor of the sons 
of men, the Master would have those other 
mansions built; and Louis Yally, loyal servant 
of , his Liege, desires with a great desire, to make 
the earthly palace of., the Master, as fair as his, 
the servant's, meagre revenue will permit. 
, Keturning from Gethsemane with a new light 
within his spirit, the pastor of Meridian casts 
himself, soul and body into the labor of building 
a nobler church, — a substantial brick edifice, 
within his little mission. It is now about the 
year 1885. The IN'ew Orleans and ^N'orth eastern 
Eailroad is just completed, and the flock of 
the Roman Catholic pastor increases to such 
proportions that the frame building hitherto 
utilized as a place of worship, is insufficient for 
the accommodation of the recruits. But the 



330 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

congregation, though larger, is yet a struggling 
one. The conditions of life are still austere, and 
penury, like a hidden fetter, binds the generosity 
of the people within narrow limitations. Not so 
much as the least two-figured bill of the paper 
currency of the Republic, lies to the credit of the 
missionary in the local bank; — plainly, he must 
look for supernatural aid, or abandon his project 
in its incipiency. 

Drawing from the pocket of his cassock the 
rosary that has touched the rocks of Massabielle, 
Louis Yall}^ raises the chaplet above his head as 
though to arrest, by gentle violence, the atten- 
tion of the Divine Beauty, exclaiming aloud, as 
he does so, " O my powerful queen, you have never 
failed me, — you cannot fail me now ! " 

A strong and pure spirit commands the stock 
exchange, the universe is its Wall Street, and 
always, it is master of conditions. As well try 
to dam the Atlantic with a cockle shell, as to set 
Penury to thwart the projects of the soul. The 
spirit of man is in touch with infinite force, 
and under certain conditions, itself becomes the 
law. 

When Louis Yally's determination to build a 



THE PALACE OF THE KING. 331 

new church became known among his parishion- 
ers, "the mad project of the little Father," as 
the scheme was good-naturedly called, was re- 
ceived, nevertheless, as an idea that would some- 
how be substantiated. The people were begin- 
ning to understand their pastor, to know the 
manner of man thej had to deal with, and to re- 
pose a blind faith in the French peasant, who 
seemed to possess some subtile power to bring all 
things his way. 

About this period, the beloved prelate. Eight 
Reverend William Henry Elder, whom Louis 
Yally had followed from Le Puy, is promoted to 
the arch-diocese of Cincinnati. The blow strikes 
to the quick; every fibre of the spiritual organ- 
ism of the missionary quivers painfully because 
of the removal of his venerable leader from the 
Natchez Bishopric. Right Reverend Francis 
Jansens is. elevated to the vacant see, and with 
his advent, by the immutable law of compensa- 
tion, Louis Yally gains a friend, Avhose intuitive 
comprehension never fails him. Great spirits 
know and respond to each other like electric cur- 
rents ; and it required little time for the keen 
perception of the new-made Bishop to recognize 



332 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the unique character of the obscure Frenchman 
in the little Meridian mission. When, therefore, 
Louis Tally's petition for permission to under- 
take the building of the church, was laid before 
the prelate, together with the beautiful plan sent 
by Mr. Alfred Zucher of New York, Bishop 
Jansens made answer in the affirmative, addino:, 
" The undertaking is rash beyond measure ; if it 
were any one but Louis Yally, I would refuse my 
consent." 

In the same letter, Bishop Jansens suggested 
that the chapel to St. Joseph, included in the 
plan, should be omitted. 

Now, while all these things were transpiring, 
our missionary had made a compact. He went, 
one morning, in his simple way, to a great man, 
no other than Joseph, the prime minister of the 
King. He, Louis Yally, wished to build for the 
King, and it was the plain duty of the patriarch 
to help him. So, to the prime minister he went, 
and said : " You have always guarded the inter- 
ests of the Koyal Family, and I think you ought 
to aid me. I want to build a new palace for the 
Master, — only brick and mortar, but the King 
will have it so. Now, the prime minister should 



THE PALACE OF THE KING. 333 

be near his Liege, and I will build you a chapel 
at the Lord's right hand if you will help me in 
the matter." 

And so it comes to pass when the episcopal let- 
ter containing the mandate to eliminate St. 
Joseph's chapel, is read by Louis Yally, the mis- 
sionary responds with superb simplicity that car- 
ries all before it ; — " I have promised this chapel 
to St. Joseph by solemn contract. If you will 
undertake the responsibility, and will reckon per- 
sonally with the prime minister, I will leave the 
chapel out, — otherwise, it must be built." 

With an ingenuous disposition that matches 
the faith of his subordinate, Francis Jansens re- 
plies: "I want to pick no quarrel with St. 
Joseph ; build your chapel." And it was done. 

The old frame church must now be removed. 
One has always to prepare the ground to build 
the King's palace, w^hether in the material or the 
moral world. In the fall of '85, the work be- 
gins, and autumn seems to wear the gold of June, 
so fair are the days to Louis Yally. When St. 
Patrick holds his festival of '86, the corner-stone 
of the new building is ready to be laid. 

Fit patron of the arduous undertaking, was 



334 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the marvelous Apostle of Ireland, — an unknown 
shepherd, the visible result of whose work ex- 
ceeds that of any other missionary of the Chris- 
tian world, for his was power of spirit and the 
confidence that resolves adamantine diflBculties 
and commands the elemental forces. The day that 
witnessed the ceremony was a perfect one to the 
jubilant heart of Meridian's pastor, a heart upon 
which high spiritual enthusiasm conferred per- 
petual youth. His bishop was present on the oc- 
casion, and Eev. Patrick Haydn, now vicar gen- 
eral of the diocese, spoke glowing words of 
sympathy and congratulation. Across the waste 
of waters, from far-off Lavaudieu, the rock that 
served as the corner-stone was transported ; and 
therein we find a fitting symbol of those faithful 
years spent by the son of the Yallys in his native 
village, those seasons of childhood and of early 
youth, that constituted so solid a foundation for 
the fine superstructure of his character. 

And the King sent gold to aid the builders of 
His palace. By the generosity of Mr. C. Mair, 
a noble Chicago philanthropist, substantial help 
was given the missionary, and the beautiful fur- 
niture of the Sacred Heart Chapel that occupies 



THE PALACE OF THE KING. 335 

the left wing of the building, thereby attained. 
And the soul of Louis Yall}^ sang like a wild bird 
from excess of gladness. 

For a few months after the above eventful day, 
the work of the building went steadil}'' on. 
With the tenderness of a young mother for her 
first-born, the pastor of Meridian watches beside 
the rising structure, brooding over the very 
stones as though they were living things. 

Slowly as the sunset builds its shining battle- 
ments upon the crimson west, so out of the 
strong desire of the missionary's spirit, the 
burning enthusiasm of his soul, the precious 
temple of his crowning hope, takes shape and 
solidity. Built literally by the spirit of him ; 
for as time goes on, his finances are exhausted, 
and when the workmen demand their wages, 
the son of Simon and Marie, like a frightened 
child, hides himself from the noise in the 
thick pine groves near the rectory, with the 
old instinct to lay his cares upon the breast 
of nature, that prompted him long ago upon 
the sunlit slopes of Lavaudieu. Days there 
are when he faces the bluff, kindly mechanics 
for the calls of the King, and in His name speaks 



336 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

to them touching words of pacification and of 
pleading, " Gold and silver I have none, but 
what I have I give thee," well might have been 
exclaimed, for into the spirit of the workmen 
from the spirit of the peasant pastor, crept a 
strong new energy, the energy of self-sacrifice. 
And so they labored, receiving uncertain wages 
drawn at intervals from the proceeds of the little 
parish festivals, and donations from the members 
of the devoted congregation, one and all of 
whom, though they had looked askance at his 
project, wrought, heart to heart with their 
leader. 

The crowning day of days draws near, — the 
morning of July 5, 188T. A cloudless dawn 
unbars its golden gates and a thousand glories 
weave a vast mosaic in the east, like the facade 
of a great cathedral wrought in prismatic stone, 
like a vision of the Holy Cit}^ 

Within the new St. Patrick's Ghurch, through 
the window-frames where the panes of glass 
pour fountain like cascades of rainbow light 
upon the flower-decked altar, and kindles to 
glittering brightness the 'noble colors of the 
American, French and Irish flags above the 



THE PALACE OF THE KING. 337 

reredos, lieur-de-lys and shamrock gleam and 
glitter, the red, white and blue of our national 
standard, and the garlands wreathed about the 
sanctuary glow like flowers of flame at the 
magic touch of the morning radiance. 

Priests from every part of the diocese have 
assembled to do honor to the son of Lavaudieu 
on this, his day of supreme triumph, the con- 
secration of the new temple of the Lord. The 
episcopacy recognizing the wonder wrought in 
the Meridian mission by the Yallys' son is to be 
nobly represented by Eight Keverend J. Sullivan 
of Mobile who will celebrate the pontifical Mass 
a few hours later ; and by Right Reverend 
Francis Jansens who will preach. 

The serried ranks of tapers, forming a guard 
of honor around the King have not yet been 
kindled for the gracious inauguration of His new 
abode. Soon, they will burn themselves away 
in ecstasies, as the royal notes of Lambillotte's 
Paschal Mass in " D," calls glorious echoes from 
the sanctuary and nave. As yet, all things are 
still, only the missionary and the dawn crave 
audience witli the Master. Silently, Louis Yally 
passes through the little sacristy, and stands be- 



338 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

fore the flower-clad altar. The air is heavy 
with the incense breathed from a thousand living 
crucibles, the gem like lips of many blossoms; 
the very atmosphere is throbbing with expecta- 
tion of the coming triumphal service. For a 
brief space, the builder would be alone wdth the 
King ; the mansion is ready, only the approval 
of the Eoyal Householder is needed, and the 
Master speaks as He ever speaks to hearts in 
supreme moments ; and having communed with 
the soul of Him, the King bestows upon the 
builder a jewel, — the flashing sapphire of great 
joy. Placing it upon his spirit where already 
gleams the pearl of charity and burns the ruby 
of self-sacrifice, the builder seals another and im- 
perishable temple to the Lord. It is the temple 
of the human spirit that is attuned to the Spirit 
of the Father, and ''It is the JSTew Jerusalem 
that shall not pass away." 



CHAPTER XX 

THE SHECHINAH 

Like the great light that beamed above the 
Holy of Holies of the Israelites, within the 
tabernacle of a strong and pure spirit shines the 
glorious Shechinah of the Lord. Though its 
radiance is invisible to mortal eyes, the souls 
of men perceive it instantly, and the beauty and 
the power thereof draws unto itself the hearts 
of all humanity. Philosopher and fool, sinner 
and saint, the sons of Adam with one accord 
yield consciously or unconsciously, to the magic 
influence of the man who lives and labors for 
the Truth. Clear visioned, indeed, were the old 
art masters, who surrounded sacred persons and 
things with a nimbus, — a corona of light, fit 
symbol of the spiritual emanation that environs 
all noble natures with a magnetic atmosphere, 
attracting what is great in other lives into its 
charmed circle. The powerful magnetism of 
Truth is one of the vital laws of the universe. 

339 



340 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Every physical grace may be denied the in- 
dividual who possesses this force, and the body 
of him may be clad in the loathsome rags of 
Lazarus ; nevertheless, he walks a king, and from 
the rising to the setting of the sun no spirit 
dares deny his sovereignty. Since creation's 
dawn, princes clad in purple and fine linen have 
bowed before the Josephs and the Elijahs of the 
race. Always have the Davids soothed and 
swayed the Sauls, always has the touch of the 
spirit of John upon the spirit of his brethren, 
been surety of the advent of the Christ. ]^ow, 
as in the days of old, humble Daniels interpret 
Pharoahs' dream, — the feverish, garish dreams 
that anon visit the couches of the sons of 
Mammon. 

And the life of the peasant of Lavaudieu in 
the lowly environments through which the path 
of his destiny leads upward to the light, begins 
to draw unto itself with a sweeter and stronger 
compulsion, the lives of his fellow men. Daily, 
the circle of his influence increases, for verily, in 
spiritual and eternal things, to give is to receive ; 
and the bread cast upon the waters returns to im- 
part a tenfold strength unto the soul. 



THE SHECHINAH. 341 

Among the little flock of our missionary, there 
is one, a widow, who hears the invitation of the 
spirit's Bridegroom to partake of the eternal 
marriage feast. Upon earth, she is a mother, it 
is true ; but she is likewise the King's daughter, 
and the King recalls that daughter home. Her 
babes must be left, — but they also are the King's 
wards, and He will guard them even as He 
guards the lily and the wren. 

As Louis Yally kneels beside the couch of the 
djang parent, she speaks to him these words : — 

" My father, — for such you have been to me, 
father and pastor and friend in one, promis.e me 
that you will take my little ones, and that where 
I go, they, one bright and blessed day, will fol- 
low me. Tell me you will be their parent; my 
death wail make them orphans, — tell me quickly 
— there are spirit voices calling." 

Sweet and clear through the soul of Louis 
Yally steals the whisper of the King : " Whatso- 
ever you do unto the least of Mine, you do it 
unto Me ! " 

Bowing his head in acquiescence, the mission- 
ary replies : — " I will take them, my daughter, — 
go on your way rejoicing." 



342 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Jubilantly, the angelic guardians swing wide 
the gates of the Everlasting Nuptial Chamber, 
and the Christian, no longer widowed, greets the 
spouse. 

Five little maids and a sturdy lad now open 
with their childish fingers another sealed cham- 
ber of our missionary's experience, a door 
through which he passes into the possession of 
great joy, of new illumination, of power in- 
creased to love and serve humanity. 

Playfully alluding to their surname (Crowe), 
the newly appointed guardian calls his tiny 
wards " My five white crows." Soon, Margaret, 
the eldest, wins the soubriquet, "My Pride," 
Annie, "My Support"; Ellen, "My Spiritual 
Consolation"; Martha, "My Intercessor with 
God " ; — and verily she was such, for at the age 
of thirteen, she was reunited to her mother, in 
the King's mansion, and joined the white-robed 
virgins who follow the Lamb wheresoever He 
goeth. And the King came to meet her, for she 
received Him ere her departure, for the first time 
upon her heart, just as a lily receives the sun. 
Into the crowded life of Louis Yally a new ele- 
ment has entered, another absorbing care and 



THE SIIECHINAH. 343 

profound responsibility. • The overburdened mo- 
ments of the missionary's day almost refuse to 
respond to the extra demand made upon them, 
but it is a question of the King's wards, and time 
is the handmaiden of the Lord. 

The lad is placed under the care of an aunt, a 
Mrs. Dwyer, of Mobile, but the constant super- 
vision of the pastor-guardian follows him. The 
little maids are kept close to his right hand, — at 
St. Aloysius' Academy, where he can daily visit 
them, and listen to their voices, and mingling its 
divine undertone with the childish prattle, the 
son of Simon and Marie hears the whisper of the 
King. 

In later years, when the spirits of the young 
w^ards have begun to put forth flower and fruit, 
Annie and Ellen enter the sisterhood of Cath- 
erine Mac-Aule}^, and the guardian priest looks 
joyously on as the white-robed brides of Zion go 
forth to meet their spouse. 

Contact with the various phases of human life, 
character, and even of evil, develop the soul force 
of man, and train the spiritual as well as the in- 
tellectual athlete. Thus, in the superb moral 
economy of the universe, the sinner lifts the 



344 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

saint to more serene plateaux, and the false is 
torch-bearer of the true. 

Up to the present period of his career, our 
peasant of Lavaudieu has known but little of the 
darker aspects of human nature, the sinister 
depths in which the soul of man can lose itself. 
In the course of a pastorate among a God-fear- 
ing, law-abiding people, the more lurid lights of 
evil are rarely encountered. But now that the 
life of the French missionary gives forth a lumi- 
nance of its own, spirits wandering in the night 
of moral darkness are insensibly attracted 
thereto. 

It is the dawn of Saturday morning, the eve 
of Palm Sunday in the early nineties ; and as 
Louis Yally unbars the doors of the church, the 
east is crowned with a vast corona of iridescent 
rays shot upward by the slowly rising sun. 
Prismatic light fills the little vestibule with 
glory, and falls brightly upon the brow of the 
missionary, who starts in surprise, as the tall form 
of a noble-looking stranger stands upon the pave- 
ment just beneath the open door. Before Louis 
Yally can recover from his astonishment, the un- 
known mounts the steps of the church, keeping, 



THE SHECHINAH. 345 

the while, his singularly powerful eyes fixed upon 
those of the priest. Leaning close to the startled 
missionary, the stranger murmurs huskily, mighty 
yearning sobbing through his words : " Father, 
can you hear a sinner's confession ? " 

The unique personality of the stranger marks 
him a man of power and passion, a man of force 
and sin. Involuntarily, Louis Yally recoils. 
Something baneful seems to issue from the very 
body of the unknown, — the exhalation of evil, 
the miasma of crime. Seeing the movement 
made by the priest, a note of entreaty enters into 
the pleader's voice. "Refuse me not. Father, 
your very face attracted me. I know you are a 
man of God. For such a one I have souo^ht, for 
I am sorely burdened." With the motion of a 
parent toward an erring child, Louis Yally 
places his hand tenderly upon the shoulder of 
the unknown : — " Come, my son, I will do what 
I can for you." 

Followed by the stately incognito, the mission- 
ary enters the confessional. Slowly the bur- 
dened moments pass, — oppressed with human 
agony, with deep remorse for treachery and 
blackest crime. 



346 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

When pastor and penitent leave the tribunal, 
both look transfigured, — the glory of triumphant 
thanksgiving upon the one, the glory of salvation 
upon the other. What Tabor was to the Body 
of Christ, is the soul's repentance to the soul. 
More than a cleansing from evil, it is an infusion 
of divine vitality, and the glory thereof is made 
manifest at times through the mortal vesture of 
the regenerated spirit. 

Waiting in the rear of the church until the 
penitent is ready to depart, the missionary 
silently extends his hand, and before he can re- 
monstrate, the stranger presses it eagerly to his 
lips and the great hot tears of a strong man fall 
upon it. 

On Sunday morn the little church is filled 
with worshipers; palm branches wave through 
every soul in honor of the King's entry into His 
beloved City ; and the glances of the congrega- 
tion rest inquiringly upon the noble looking in- 
cognito who bows in rapt adoration near the 
throne. As the supreme moment arrives, and 
the King comes down from His diaz and gives 
His regal person in incomprehensible union to 
his subjects, the eyes of the unknown seem to 



THE SHECHINAH. 347 

look straight into tlie eyes of the Master, and the 
world of men vanishes from his senses, as the 
Prince of the House of David gives the repent- 
ant traitor the sacramental kiss of peace. By 
subtle instinct the members of the little congre- 
gation know that something of unusual moment is 
taking place, the Shechinah glows within them, 
every prayer becomes a vision, and every breath 
becomes a prayer, and from the hearts of all 
within the church arise the jubilant notes of 
triumph and praise : " Hosannah ! to the Son of 
David ; blessed is He who cometh in the name 
of the Lord ! " 

As the unknown communicant leaves the altar 
rails, the church is so still that one almost hears 
the greeting of the King as He enters the New 
Jerusalem of his predilection, — the soul of the 
repentant sinner. 

In the afternoon of the triumphant day, the 
unknown stranger presents himself at the little 
presbytery. Glancing at the card handed him 
by Aunt Lucy, Louis Yally almost leaps from his 
chair in amazement, — it bears the name of the 
notorious, the most relentless persecutor of the 
Eoman Catholic Church. 



34:8 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

And the spirit of the missionary seemed to 
hear with the Apostle, the " Great voice of much 
people in heaven, saying, * Alleluia ; salvation, 
and glory, and honor, and power to the Lord our 
God ! ' " 

At this period, the zenith of the life-work of 
the son of Lavaudieu, every season of the golden 
year becomes a harvest time, and into the vast 
granaries of the King, the peasant priest gathers 
the immortal seed. As the spring deepens into 
summer, Marie Yally joins her husband in the 
Kingdom. Another and most precious heart tie 
is broken for Louis, the now wholly orphaned 
son ; but the kindred of his spirit assemble and 
will keep tryst in their imperishable dwelling 
place. Realizing this, a note of triumph rings 
even in the sob that breaks anon through the 
chant of the Eequiem Mass sung by the bereaved 
missionary for his mother's soul ; and the light 
that shines from the face of the celebrant, tells 
those of his people who are present that the 
spirit of Marie, and the spirit of her son hold 
converse. Aye, dear brother, even as your soul 
to my soul will speak, if we are one in truth and 
grace, with the perfect comprehension and in 



THE SHECHINAH. 349 

complete communion. When the veil of the 
flesh has been rent in twain, then, and only then, 
will men truly know each other. Bearing weal 
or woe, triumph or failure to the sons of Adam, 
the unwearied years wore on, themselves always 
victorious, always potent ambassadors of Time. 
From the cradle to the grave, from the grave 
back to the cradle the pendulum of life swings 
ceaselessly and the immortal spirits march on 
grand parade, an endless quickstep from eternity 
to eternity. 

Christmas-tide is again at hand, and the sweet 
influence of the Christ-child is abroad in the 
land. The new church in the Meridian mission 
blazes with light ; and the exultant chant of the 
angels seems to ring through the little sanctuary 
as Louis Yally taking the white Host within his 
hand, pronounces the tremendous words that 
shake the strong foundation of the Uncreated 
Throne. Kaising the God-made Man on high, 
the overpowering glory of the Incarnation sweeps 
through the soul of the priest, with an intensity 
of realization he has never known before, — even 
in his moments of most intimate communion with 
the King, almost suspending for an instant, the 



350 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

consciousness of his environment. Something of 
his interior illumination becomes visible upon 
the countenance of our missionary, and is dis- 
tinctly evident to those near the sanctuary. High 
up in the middle aisle sits a young woman radi- 
ant with the joy of bridehood. A Presbyterian 
by birth and education, she has come for the 
lirst time to a Roman Catholic Church to hear 
the royal music of the Christmas-tide. 

As though the celebrant has exercised a mag- 
netic influence, her eyes are riveted upon the 
face of Louis Yally, when at the elevation bell, 
holding aloft the Host, his every faculty ab- 
sorbed, consumed, as it were, in contemplation 
akin to actual vision. Thus the moment passes. 
The sweet invocations of the Agnus Dei bring a 
slight reaction ; the countenance of the mission- 
ary is again turned toward the tabernacle, but 
the 3^oung woman seated in the third pew has 
become transfigured. Joy, amazement, yearn- 
ing, and indomitable resolve mingle upon her 
expressive features. The service concludes, the 
new-made wife retires with the congregation, 
but upon her soul has been placed the seal of the 
predilection of the King. On the day after the 



THE SHECHINAH. 351 

great festival, the young bride presents herself 
at the presbytery. The modest garments, the 
high-bred air, were duly noticed by Aunt Lucy, 
as she took the bit of pasteboard proffered by 
the visitor. " She's a sho' nuff genteel 'oman, 
Father ; 'speck she must have come from Caro- 
liny." 

Entering his little study, the missionary stood 
face to face with the visitor of the previous morn- 
ing, whose absorbed attention he had noticed in 
the church. Eeplying briefly to his greeting, the 
young woman exclaimed : — " Father, Ihelieve in 
the Roman Catholic Religion j teach me how to 
practice it. It was the look upon your face that 
did it, — you seemed to speak to God, to see Him?'' 

Unable to control his strong emotion, Louis 
Yally exclaimed in answer: — " Trul}^, the Lord 
has chosen a lowly instrument ; 'for He that is 
mighty hath done great things to me, and holy 
is His name.' " 

On the fourteenth of February of the same 
year, the little Alabama bride, after a due course 
of instruction was formally presented to the 
King, and every day thereafter, whether the sun 
shone, or the spring storms gathered, she was 



352 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

accustomed to spend one hour in the royal au- 
dience chamber. "My bee is in the church 
gathering honey," the missionary frequently ex- 
claimed, as the quietly-garbed figure glided 
through the little side door of the sacristy. 
But a few months passed, however, before his 
" Bee " was summoned to the Eternal Meadows, 
and in the gardens of the King, found the flower 
of immortal bliss. 

With heart made glad by such sweet harvest- 
ing, Louis Yally brings redoubled zeal to the 
service of the Master. So bounteous a Lord 
should have a grateful steward. 

Stained glass memorial windows and a fine 
pipe organ, upon which the royal chants could 
be more fitly played, were, somehow, obtained. 

The steadily increasing number of pupils be- 
gins to overflow the narrow limits, of St. Aloy- 
sius' Academy, and a new Wing is built. Nine- 
teen of the former students of that institution, 
for most of whom our missionary had poured 
the baptismal waters, now grown-up maidens, 
espoused the Lamb by entering the order of the 
Sisters of Mercy, because of the potent influence 
of the peasant pastor, teaching as it does, what 



THE SHECHINAH. 353 

a glad and glorious thing it is to dwell close to 
the person of the King. 

A quarter of a century has elapsed since the 
son of Simon and Marie left the Seminary of Le 
Puy to follow the American Bishop to his for- 
eign mission, — a quarter of a century's pastorate 
in Meridian, as well as twenty -five years since 
his commission as one of the ambassadors of the 
Most High. A double festival, therefore, ap- 
proaches, and as the day of their pastor's silver 
jubilee draws near, the little flock is on the qui 
vive of expectation. 

Beyond the limits of his congregation, and 
even of the town of Meridian itself, the fine 
enthusiasm of the people of Mississippi to do 
honor to our missionary is manifested in a kindly 
rivalry, that bids fair to make the fete-day of 
Louis Yally one never to be forgotten by the 
jubilarian or his friends. Gentile and Israelite, 
residents of the little city and those of the sur- 
rounding country, vie with each other in doing 
honor to the peasant of Lavaudieu, whose life 
has wrought leaven within the lives of his fellow 
men, purifying and exalting both individual and 
community. The shabby, uncomfortable little 



354 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

presbytery is made brand-new with fragrant mat- 
ting and upholstered furniture, the gift of the 
Jewish citizens of Meridian. The plated spoons, 
much scarred from long service, are honorably 
retired, like old soldiers, to the cupboard of the 
little cuisine and shining silver is placed upon 
the homely table. Eoyal, glittering vestments, 
the ambassador's robes of state, given by the 
Sodalities, are hidden away in the sacristy to 
await the momentous day. A purse is made up 
among the gentlemen of the congregation in 
ortier to entertain the right noble guests who 
will assemble from many states to celebrate the 
labors and the festival of the humble son of the 
Yallys. 

One of those mild bright mornings, like May- 
days gone astray, which visit us, anon, during the 
early part of the southern winter, inaugurates the 
day of the silver jubilee. The little church seems 
verily the Bride of the Lamb in her marriage 
garments of white and silver, awaiting the com- 
ing of the Bridegroom, upon the altar-throne. 
The sanctuary is thronged with the visiting 
clergy; and Archbishops Elder, Jansens, and 
Bishop Heslin, the three prelates who have 



THE SHECHINAH. 355 

guarded tlio Mississippi diocese during Louis 
Tally's missionary and pastoral labors therein, 
give the tribute of their presence to the life-work 
of the son of Lavaudieu. The snow-white sur- 
plices of the altar boys gleam here and there like 
big snowflakes between the brilliant gold of the 
vestments of the priests and deacons. Louis 
Tally officiates, attended by Fathers Picherit of 
Yicksburg, F. Blanc of Bay St. Louis, Missis- 
sippi, and J. McCafferty of Tuscaloosa, Alabama, 
acting respectively as priest, deacon and sub- 
deacon. The little building is densely crowded 
by men and women of every denomination. 
The eager populace overflows into the aisles, and 
as the superb notes of Mozart's Twelfth Mass 
burst like a storm from the organ, the great 
throng presses eagerly forward to obtain a little 
view of the glowing decorations of the altar, and 
the beloved jubilarian of the day. The superb 
Credo is now ended, and the last notes of the 
Yeni Creator ripple slowly out, in ever widening 
circles until it mingles with the " sea of glass." 
But before the Bishop of Mississippi, who is 
about to preach the panegyric, ascends into the 
pulpit, the prelate pauses in the centre of the 



356 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

sanctuary. By a previous understanding, stole, 
mitre and crozier are held in readiness by the 
attendants. The people bend forward, puzzled, 
expectant. Beckoning the amazed son of the 
Yallys to approach. Bishop Heslin presents him 
with the canonical robes and names him canon of 
the Cathedral. The brief ceremony over, the 
pastor of Meridian returns to his place, his eyes 
visibly glistening with tears, while an irrepressi- 
ble murmur of enthusiastic admiration arises 
from the closely packed congregation. A slight 
shade of sadness flits over the mobile counte- 
nance of the Yallys' son. Beneath the robes of 
office the King had placed a nobler vestment, 
the Golden Fleece of Humility. All the power 
and privileges of Louis Tally's life have been 
drawn from the subtle strength that emanates 
therefrom ; the meek souled priest would fain 
wear it unhidden to the end. Swiftly, however, 
the depression passes, and the higher truth comes 
in answer to his spirit's questioning. No place, 
or power, or raiment, can exalt the soul ; neither 
can penury, nor persecution nor servitude debase 
it ; honor and glory and potency d,well within the 
sjpirit, and to their measure man cannot add nor 



THE SHECHINAH. 357 

take away. The cross of the Legion of Honor 
may mark, but cannot make the hero. Clothe 
the saint as Mephistopheles and he remains the 
saint. Garb Mephisto as a monk, and he is still 
the fiend. 

And while all these thoughts are clamoring for 
expression, the glowing jubilee panegyric is being 
spoken by Eight Reverend Thomas Heslin in St. 
Patrick's church. When the Bishop has con- 
cluded, and the sublime Credo is over, the Ave 
Maria will be sung at the request of the jubilarian, 
by one of his Sunday-school pupils. And to the 
son of Simon and Marie the solemn rite moves 
on, and is ended like a sacrifice in some wonder- 
ful dream. 

As a dream also, a pageant with which he 
could hardly identify himself, passed the grea.t 
banquet given during the afternoon at the 
" Grand, Avenue Hotel," when the mayor of the 
town, and the Catholic Knights and members of 
the " Benevolent Society " gathered round the 
board to do him honor. 

When the clear, crisp night comes down, the 
Grand Opera House, lent by its proprietors for 
the occasion, blazes with electric lights, while 



358 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

amid the clustered palms and the many colored 
flowers, the pure white lilies of the fleur-de-lys 
shine like guardian angels of the pageant. One 
by one, as the beautiful jubilee drama goes on, 
the years of the pastor's life impersonated by the 
little maidens of his school, come out upon the 
stage, each bearing the symbol of some noble and 
imperishable gift of the missionary bestowed 
upon his people. Having done this, the white- 
robed maids pass on, vanishing from sight, even 
as the years themselves have vanished. As the 
exquisite panorama reaches its climax, the 
thoughts of Louis Yally revert to the dreary, 
wind-swept night, w^hen, shivering, hungry and 
homeless, he waited for Eev. John Baptiste 
Mouton, at the little pine woods station. Now 
from the throng of children assembled en m.asse^ 
for the triumphant music of the jubilee chorus, 
come the words of glory to the King, who has 
wrought such wondrous things, and every fibre 
in the being of our missionary gives forth a sep- 
arate paaan, as forgetful, for the nonce, of his en- 
vironment, " O God, who is like unto Thee ! " 
verily, " Thou hast exalted the humble ! " 

But more precious to Louis Yally than all the 



THE SHECIIINAH. 359 

other gifts received upon his day of triumph, are 
the candelabra for the throne-room of the King, 
given by the Daughters of Catherine Mac-Auley, 
each member of the community being represented 
by a burning taper. Yes, they had been lights in- 
deed, making bright his path and illumining his 
progress upward and onward. His "Crowes" 
brought two seraphim to stand on either side the 
throne. Truly, the deeds of men return to them 
as angels, good or evil. Then there was the trib- 
ute of his working men, the men of the pastor's 
predilection, of his yearning love. They bring 
him a handsome suit; — its tailor's chef (Tmuvre i 
a shining beaver and walking cane and gloves. 
It is the smartest raiment the peasant priest has 
ever worn. But, is he not the King's ambassa- 
dor ? and though he loves not modish garments, 
— ah ! greatly prefers the dear old cassock minus 
buttons and plus patches, yet it beseems a sover- 
eign's minister to wear the best apparel that he 
can obtain without sacrificing his Lord's true in- 
terests to the same. With merry jest upon his 
lips, the almost evangelical simplicity of the 
Yallys' son being known to all present, Mr. 
Thos. McCarthy, spokesman for the men of 



360 FOR TPIE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the "I^evv Orleans and Northeastern Eailroad 
Shops," presented the handsome outfit to our 
missionary. With a merry twinkle in his eye, 
kindled by the humor of the situation, the dele- 
gate said, "You must pledge yourself. Father 
Yally, not to put on airs." " I will not put on 
airs," responded the jubilarian, in his French 
English, the sunny smile they knew so well 
making bright his features ; — " I will not put on 
air, boys," " and my heart would thank you bet- 
ter than my lips can say it " y — the little French 
idioms clung to him until the end. At midnight, 
when the curtain fell upon the jubilee, a great 
cloud, like a big velvet pall, shut the moon cere- 
moniously from the world. A cold drizzle began 
to descend, but notwithstanding the hour and 
the teasing w^eather, the native humor of Louis 
Yally, repressed during the solemn ceremonies 
of the previous day, once more asserts itself. 

Several of the guests, including the Bishop of 
Mississippi, are to depart at 3 A. M. Doing bat- 
tle with excessive weariness, our missionary rises 
betimes, and, as though preparing for a white 
house soiree, makes an immaculate toilet, array- 
ing in the full regalia of the brand-new outfit. As 



THE SHECHINAH. 361 

the clerical party reach the dismal station, Louis 
Yally steps full into the ligbt, revealing his won- 
derful toggery to his astonished companions. 
Pacing mincingly down the soggy platform, the 
jubilarian twists his cane with the insouciance of 
a Beau Brummel. Catching the humor of the 
situation, the jovial laugh of Bishop Heslin rings 
out upon the night : — "Remember, Father Yally," 
exclaims the almost hysterical prelate, "you 
promised not to put on ' air.' " 

A few hours later, the son of Simon and Marie 
has resumed the shabby cassock and the sweet, 
hidden life in the little Meridian mission. 



CHAPTER XXI 

EEVELATION 

Calm, even unto monotony in outward seem- 
ing, are the years of the son of Lavaudieu 
that follow the triumph of the silver jubilee. 
Monotonous indeed, to the casual observer, but 
to the eyes of the spirit from which the scales 
have fallen, rich with Divine event, replete with 
happenings of infinite significance. 

In the life of the spirit, there is no such thing 
as sameness. ISTot a single hour lived by the 
human soul is like the hour that preceded, or 
can resemble the hour that is to follow it. We 
sleep and take refreshment for the body, we 
touch familiar things, and fulfil familiar duties, 
and all the while the soul is passing from 
cataclasm to cataclasm, from cosmos unto 
cosmos. To such veiled and potent years man 
owes his power ; at such times his destiny is 
wrought with Titan blows. JSTot by deeds that 
blaze, and vast philanthropies, does the spirit 

362 



REVELATION. 363 

grow to God-like stature, but by silence and by 
serene thought, for thence are heard the revela- 
tions of the King. 

And as Louis Yally holds that sweet com- 
munion, the wondrous secrets of the Master 
begin to leave their impress upon his counte- 
nance and his mien. His fealty to the Sovereign, 
and to the Heavenly Queen, is manifested by in- 
creased ardor in action and in word. During 
the shepherd's heart to heart talks with his little 
flock, new power lurks in every utterance, — his 
faculties are transfigured by grace. Of average 
intellect by nature, this peasant- priest begins to 
experience a mental quickening, a sort of intel- 
lectual clairvoyance, that enables him to grasp 
spiritual conditions, and arrive at sound conclu- 
sions. This insight becomes daily more and 
more evident in his increasing power in the 
confessional. Every penitent in the little parish 
grows conscious of the new-born power, the 
nameless force that emanates from the faithful 
priest, and causes the men and women who kneel 
at his tribunal to feel as though an unseen, but 
resistless hand, were lifting them to higher things, 
lifting them out of sin and evil unto truth and 



364 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

righteousness. To the pastor of Meridian, as to 
every human soul that has lived by spiritual 
realities, and grown strong upon the manna of 
prayer, comes a period of illumination, of in- 
fused wisdom, and mental power. These are the 
Divine lenses by which the clean of heart see 
God, and complete the threefold worship due 
from the creature to his Creator. For of every 
man, wise or simple, it is written : — " Thou 
shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole 
mind." Hence the Cure d'Ars, the John 
Berchmanns of the world. And as the " Hall 
Mark " of true wisdom is the knowledge of 
values, the intrinsic and relative worth of all 
that is presented to the choice, — the second 
sight that perceives the greatness of little things 
and of lowly conditions, so an increasing zeal 
for the infirm, the suffering, the destitute, the 
social outcast, begins to color the more deeply, 
aye, even with his heart's blood, the daily life of 
our missionary. In the season of youth, while 
tending his sheep upon the verdant hills of 
Lavaudieu, the shepherd lad was wont to turn 
anon from his flock to succor some bewildered 
yearling of another fold that had wandered too 



REVELATION. 365 

far from its dam and had become entangled in 
the fierce briars by the wayside. And now, in 
the day of his maturity, the earnest pastor shares 
his life and his love with those of pastures not 
his own. Daily, his round of pastoral visits is 
made, to the homes alike, of Catholic and of 
Protestant. In all seasons and all weather, 
Charlie stops, unbidden by the missionary, be- 
fore the familiar gates, for the faithful comrade 
seems to share the enthusiasm of his master, and 
has grown so sagacious that Louis Yally tells his 
people : — " I am afraid to leave my window open, 
lest Charlie should learn the combination of my 
safe ! " 

At the end of a jasmine scented lane, where 
great oaks weave the sunlight into golden 
tapestry in fine weather, lives an elderly in- 
valid from whose life the light has been 
quenched these many years. The glory of the 
June noonday cannot kindle one ray within his 
blighted eyes ; and in the darkened chamber of 
his spirit, the gloom is deeper still. All day, the 
blind man lies and waits — for what ? — the com- 
ing of the* starless night? All night the blind 
man lies and waits, — for what ? — the dawning of 



366 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the sunless day. And beyond the dark of night 
and day, another and more fearful gloom rolls 
outward to infinity. Beholding it, the blind 
man shudders. 

Sometimes, when alone with the shoreless 
darkness, the stricken one draws from beneath 
his pillow the photograph of his only son; he 
presses the likeness to his lips, and between the 
kisses fall the tears, for the boy is far away. 
The blind man is of another fold than that of 
the pastor of Meridian ; but when he hears the 
voice of the shepherd-priest in converse with his 
sister, a look of eagerness akin to hope daw^ns on 
his features, kindling them into the semblance of 
light. Calling to his kinswoman, the afflicted 
one requests : " Ask the priest to come hither ; 
I would hear his voice more plainly." Is it that 
after years spent in the Master's service, peculiar 
power dwells in the very accents of the King's 
servants, so permeated are their souls with God ? 
Do spirits, like seolian harps, give forth sweet 
sounds when the Divine breath has awakened 
them? 

" Lean nearer, that I may touch yoii," entreats 
the invalid. 



REVELATION. 367 

Louis Yally bends low beside the bed, and the 
blind man passes his hands slowly over the mis- 
sionary's features ; then exclaims abruptly, — the 
words thrilled with emotion: "Teach me to 
pray." 

Dumb with amazement. Father Yally pauses a 
moment before responding : " My brother, we 
will pray together." 

When Charlie reaches home that night, he 
divines that something wonderful has transpired, 
and the happy missionary gives his faithful co- 
laborer an extra allowance of hay for supper. 

And as the fragrant summer days go by, upon 
the shore of the blind man's desolation, a light 
begins to break. Slowly, like a sunrise, the radi- 
ance of Eternal Love unfurls upon the horizon of 
his spirit, flooding all his being with Divine efful- 
gence. The eyes of the blind man are yet closed 
to earthly day, but those of his soul have opened 
upon the uncreated splendors of Truth, — the 
blind man sees the King ! 

And having looked upon the Lord God, the 
blind man, who is also a paralytic, feels yet one 
strong desire, a great yearning to behold the face 
of the King's servant, who had led him into the 



368 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

audience chamber, the countenance of Louis 
Yally. This, likewise, will soon be gratified, for 
the Master summons them both ere long to His 
Palace of Clear Yision, wherein priest and peni- 
tent will stand face to face. 

And if the pastor of Meridian gathers an ever 
increasing number of wanderers into the fold of 
the Great Shepherd, he spends, likewise, more 
and more of his daily life in the earthly throne 
room of the Sovereign. 

So supreme has become his enthusiasm for the 
work of the Great Tribunal that an electric bell 
connecting the church with the little presbytery 
is placed in one of the chapels of the former, in 
order that, at any hour of the day or night, the 
seeker after peace may command the dispenser 
thereof. 

Of late, during the long hours within the tiny 
prison-house, a subtle weakness has stolen through 
the overtaxed frame of the missionary. The 
fierce simoon of sin seems to scorch his spirit, the 
polluted breath of the evil he exorcises, to wither 
his tormented nerves and heart. But, battling 
wath physical depression, the steward of the 
King toils on. 



REVELATION. 369 

With his continually deepening ardor for the 
King's honor, comes the strong desire on the part 
of Meridian's pastor to enlist the aid of other 
soldiers in the mighty standing army of the 
Truth. The activity of the human spirit is like 
the activity of the elemental forces, — the ener- 
gies of air and sea. Set each in motion, and it 
continues in ever-widening circles until it merges 
into the Infinite. 

Looking abroad for cooperation, the keen dis- 
cernment of Louis Yally beholds the powerful 
and systematic work being done by the Society 
of Jesus, and recognizes in its members, his most 
potent allies. 

With a great love has he loved these mighty 
men of thought, the intellectual Joshuas of 'New 
Israel, the resistless Knights of Thought, moving 
down the centuries with unbroken front, and do- 
ing deadly battle with the False. From the day 
when the powerful mentality of an Ignatius con. 
ceived the great society into which many of the 
master minds of the world were destined to be 
gathered, to this the twentieth century of the 
Christian era, the men of the Society of Jesus 
have been the intellectual colossuses of the 



370 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

world. Individually, they are mental athletes ; 
collectively, they are the most potent known or- 
ganization of civilization, because the most tre- 
mendous force focused upon one object, acting as 
one brain. When a man has come forth from 
the many years' discipline of the Society of 
Jesus, the superb mental training, the spiritual 
culture of its thirty-day meditations, he stands 
forth a giant, and is able to do victorious battle 
with agnosticism. 

A noble type of his royal order, is Eev. 
William Power, provincial of the Southern 
Mission of the Jesuits in North America, a man 
of valiant spirit, and of rare intellectual virility. 
Out of Ireland, that mould of heroic brain and 
brawn, came the provincial, having first seen 
the light in Dublin, on the 19th of April, in 1855. 
From his youth, of marked individuality, and 
profoundly imbued with a sense of the supreme 
responsibility of the human soul, William 
Power entered the Society of Jesus, on July 22, 
in the year 18Y3, the nineteenth of his age. As 
Father Power was received for the New Orleans 
Mission, which belonged at that period to the 
Province of Lyons, our student was sent to 



reyelatio:n'. 371 

France for his novitiate and juniorate. After 
completing the same, he came to America, and 
devoted several consecutive years to brilliant 
study in Woodstock College, Md., and sub- 
sequently was ordained priest by Cardinal 
Gibbons in the summer of '85. Soon after his 
elevation to the Order of Melchizedek, young 
Father Power went to Manresa, Spain, for his 
third probation. Upon his return to the United 
•States from abroad, his remarkable ability was 
enlisted in missionary work, and for several years 
he gave retreats and protracted missions in most 
of the Southern States, a labor in which he met 
with phenomenal success. On the nineteenth of 
June, 1S9T, the fine capacity of our Jesuit being 
clearly recognized, Eev. Wm. Power was made 
Superior of the ISTew Orleans Province, which 
exalted office he occupies and further exalts to- 
day. 

And at this period of the life of the son of 
Lavaudieu, William Power enters into its most 
sacred recess, leaving thereupon, an indelible 
impress. 

It is one of those humid mornings in early 
spring, when the moist exhalations of the earth 



372 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

are pregnant with new life, and all the world is 
filled with resurrection. A golden jonquil pushes 
its inquisitive head into the study of the little 
Meridian presbytery, the door of which stands 
slightly ajar. Within the apartment, absorbed 
with the prospectus of the mission about to be 
given to his flock, Father Yally leans eagerly 
forward, his head, now faintly silvered, nearly 
touching that of the noble Jesuit, a brief sketch 
of whose career has just been given. In response 
to the petition of our missionary, William Power 
has come in person, accompanied by one of his 
Order, and the leonine brow of the guest is like- 
wise bent low over the manuscript, in complete 
oblivion of all things save the work in hand. It is 
the first meeting between Louis Yally and the 
learned Jesuit, a meeting in which the fine 
spirituality, the high integrity, and all-compell- 
ing simplicity of the peasant-priest have swept 
the very heart-strings of the man of mind, and 
bound them irrevocably about the spirit of the 
humble son of Simon and Marie. The antipodes 
of character, of culture, of disposition, but both 
wise men and strong; the one finding wisdom 
through God-directed intellectual inspirations, 



REVELATION. 373 

the other obtaining the same wisdom through 
love and God-directed service. With that child- 
like timidity, slightly tinged with awe, with 
which the Cure d'Ars greeted the mighty Lacord- 
aire, Louis Yally makes welcome the brilliant 
visitor to his home. The first courteous words 
of the great Jesuit dispel the shyness of his host ; a 
comprehensive look passes swiftly between them, 
and their hearts have met, to be parted never- 
more. Unlike, yet strangely similar, the two ; 
both indefatigable servants of the King, both 
consumed in mind and spirit by intense devotion 
to His work. Each, a man of kindly, sparkling 
humor; the one, meek with th-e meekness born 
of much knowledge ; the other simple with the 
simplicity that this is the offering of prompt, un- 
questioning correspondence with grace. And 
the one ministers unto the other. The powerful 
individuality of the Jesuit reacts upon the son 
of the Yallys; the ingenious nature of Louis 
Yally reads its sublime lesson to his guest. 

Thus were inaugurated the Jesuit Missions in 
the parish of Meridian. Year by year they be- 
came more fruitful, bearing the souls of the 



374 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

little congregation ever upward to nobler 
spiritual ideals. 

And the returning seasons brought Kev. 
William Power again and yet again to the tiny 
presbytery, — drawn by the sweet magnetism of 
the life that the obscure Frenchman lived therein^ 
drawn from the rostrums of the great cities, 
from the stimulating arenas of mental activity, 
to the humble pulpit of St. Patrick's and the 
simple companionship of St. Patrick's pastor. 

Not only to the infirm of soul and of body is 
the abounding spiritual vitality of Father Yally 
communicated at this epoch of his ministry. To 
those members 'of his flock, full of grace and 
truth and living always in the presence of the 
King, his virile influence brings flashes of yet 
purer light, stirrings of higher energies, the 
awakening of deeper yearnings for immortal 
things. Under such conditions, the " League of 
the Sacred Heart," and the " Society of the Liv- 
ing Eosary," those powerful confraternities of 
cooperative prayer, whose waves, like a sleepless 
sea, beat ceaselessly upon the uncreated shore, 
are established by the missionary in fruitful soil. 
With so potent a means of progress, the condi- 



REVELATION. 375 

tion of the communit}^, material as well as 
spiritual, visibly improves ; for prayer, which is 
the laying hold of vital forces, the getting in 
touch with essential, universal power, or in ac- 
customed words, communion with the Divine^ 
whether it be moulded into meditation, or crys- 
talized into verbal formulas, has ever been and 
must ever remain the mighty channel by which 
God-life and light and truth are imparted to the 
human soul. It is not merely an act of devotion 
and of worship, but the pabulum of the spirit, 
the immortal food by which it grows, the manna 
of the philosopher as well as of the Christian 
mystic. 

At the period of life with which we have now 
to deal, the powerful e£Pect of the spiritual new 
birth, the mental rejuvenescence conferred by 
prayer, is clearly visible in the work of our mis- 
sionary. From those who dwell nearest the 
heart of Father Tally, he can no longer conceal 
the fact that his overstrained constitution is 
about to succumb beneath the incessant toil of 
his arduous labors. But as the fingers of decay 
leave their first impress upon his mortal frame, 
the vigorous soul-life of the man burns with in- 



376 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

creasing brilliancy, its innate power repelling, 
retarding, almost nullifying the action of disease. 
Under the influence of prayer's Divine infusion, 
nevv powers awake, and new capacities evince 
themselves as the body totters to its fall. So 
truly is the spirit of the just man the master of 
his physical nature, that his mental perceptions 
grow clearer and more unerring, as the veil of 
the flesh begins to quiver beneath the strong 
touch of the hand of Death, and Eternal Truth 
casts its divine reflection upon the dissolving 
fabric. 

Heretofore, the financial success of Louis Tally 
in the honor of the King, and for the improve- 
ment of his demesne, has been due rather to the 
winning simplicity of the missionary's nature, — 
a candid trust in his fellow creatures that com- 
pelled response and awakened an answering 
chord in every spirit — than to any especial fac- 
ulty for financiering. But now, born of the very 
guilelessness of heart that looks on God, is the 
marked capacity for monetary matters mani- 
fested by the missionary at this time. The son 
of Layaudieu becomes the business man, and a 
yet abler steward of the possessions of the Mas- 



REVELATION. 377 

ter. The material prosperity of the Meridian 
mission increases the income of the little presby- 
tery, but with the abiding instinct of the shep- 
herd, every dollar of his exchequer not required 
for stern necessity, is devoted by the pastor of 
St. Patrick's to the poor and the infirm of the 
parish. 

A human life was ordained by the Creator to 
resemble a perfect day ; as each descends unto 
the West, new beauties and nobler splendors 
should attend it. Beyond the earthly horizon of 
them both, glows the uncreated loveliness of 
God, and the flush thereof should touch the 
spirit, like the Occident, to unimagined glory. 

As the luminance of the Infinite falls mantle- 
wise about the fading form of the self-sacrificing 
missionary, his ebbing vitality is wrought into 
love, love that has power to shield and warm 
and comfort and uplift all who come in contact 
with him at this period. 

The High Mass on Sunday, that sublime cere- 
monial of the great Archpriest so dear to the 
soul of the pastor of Meridian, is now a painful 
exertion to our missionary, whose perishing body 
like an instrument which note by note grows 



378 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

dumb, fails nerve by nerve to respond to the mo- 
tions of the spirit. 

One day, warned by suffering* that his earthly 
stewardship is nearly at an end, the King's serv- 
ant summons the Master's little ones around 
him. Standing in the midst of his Sovereign's 
most precious trust, the members of the " First 
Communion " class, the son of the Yallys speaks 
to them as he has never spoken before. Draw- 
ing every hour nearer to the Source of wisdom 
and of knowledge, an unwonted power, akin to 
eloquence, anoints the lips of our missionary. 
The children hang breathless upon his w^ords. 
A sacred awe enfolds them ; the most thought- 
less becomes sensible of some unwonted Presence 
in their midst. It is the vigil of Pentecost, and 
the stirrings of the Spirit are almost palpable, as 
it animates the soul of the catechist, and moves 
within the hearts of his youthful listeners. 
Sweeter, more fervent, and more tender become 
Father Yally's words, and his countenance takes 
on an unwonted loveliness akin to supernatural. 
A sudden light is born upon his face, as though 
some revelation of the milk-white dove were 
breathed into his ear. The missionary is about 



REVELATION. 379 

to speak once more, to communicate the glorious 
message to his children ; but ere his lips can 
frame his words, a deadly pallor sweeps across 
the countenance dulling all its sublime luminance. 
Grasping the altar rail to prevent himself from 
falling, Louis Yally totters toward the little 
sacristy and sinks upon a chair ; the spirit of him 
to do stern battle against the flesh. 

A dreary week succeeds the above prostration 
of the pastor of St. Patrick's, during which he 
lies helpless upon his couch in the presbytery, 
waiting, almost longing, for the summons that 
does not come. But the hour of his passing has 
not yet struck, and upon the eighth day following 
that of his seizure in the church, he arises once 
more, and resumes for the short Indian Summer 
of his strength, the beloved duties of his steward- 
ship. 

The bud-like loveliness of spring unfolds into 
the fall blown rose of summer ; and one bright, 
but sultry day thereof, our missionary, Avho is 
confessor extraordinary to the Daughters of 
Catherine Mac-Auley at St. Joseph's Convent in 
Jackson, Mississippi, reaches the little capital, 
where he will join Eev. Henry Picherit, and go 



380 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

from thence to the annual exhibition at St. Fran- 
cis Xavier's Academy in Yicksburg. 

The early part of the afternoon wears away, 
as the son of Lavaudieu sits in the Great Tribu- 
nal, pouring from its inexhaustible Fountain, the 
life-giving waters upon the spirits of the devoted 
community. The journey from Meridian has 
left him singularly fatigued, and now, slightly 
flushed, and somewhat spent with weariness, he 
seeks the side altar and kneels before the statue 
of his Queen. The nave of the church is already 
in darkness, but one spot of sunset glory burns 
upon the West, where the lingering radiance 
gathers itself into a glowing lotus, and from the 
vast heart streams upward, incense wise, the 
eerie luminance of the afterglow. The light 
falls through the stained glass window, weaving 
a rainbow-like nimbus above the Mother-Maid. 
The hour, the solitude, stand as ministering 
angels beside the overwrought missionary. The 
iridescent glory weaves a veil that separates the 
soul of him for the nonce, from the world of men, 
enclosing it within the realm of spirit. . ., . 
Is it the eifect of the mystic light, or does the 
Queen of Heaven stretch forth her sweet right 



REVELATION. 381 

hand in gentle invitation to the steward of her 
Son ? The rush of many wings seems filling all 
the ambient air, as the missionary falls prostrate 
before his Queen. 



CHAPTEE XXII 

THE GATES AJAR 

After a fleeting glimpse between the half 
opened portals of the ISTew Jerusalem, the spirit 
of the son of Lavaudieu, made strong by the 
effulgence from the throne, kindles once more 
the brain of the sufferer to consciousness, and 
Louis Yallj finds himself in the parlor of the 
Jackson Convent, tended by Eev. A. Oliver, and 
the Daughters of Catherine Mac-Auley. 

The news that their shepherd had been stricken, 
flashed over the electric wares to the little flock 
in Meridian, and borne on a special train, ten of 
its members, accompanied by Rev. B. O'Eeilly, 
who had temporary charge of the church, and 
two of the Sisters of Mercy, from St. Aloysius' 
Academy, rush as fast as steam can bear them, 
to the aid of the cherished friend and pastor of 
them all. In the heart of each, is the hope that 
the beloved parent-priest may have sufficient 
strength to return with them to his home ; in 

382 



THE GATES AJAR. 383 

the heart of each is likewise the growing fear 
that the King's servant will have received his 
summons ere he can be reached by the people of 
his predilection. Like a moth from its chrysalis, 
intelligence emerges from the mental dark ; 
and when the missionary opens his eyes again 
upon the light, the familiar forms of his own 
parishioners stand beside his couch. Turning to 
the Sister of Mercy by his side, he wonderingly 
inquires: "How did you get here, my sister? 
Take me home, take me home at once." 

In his strong excitement, the little father 
raises himself upon, his elbow ; as he does so, the 
great gash received w^hen he fell in the church, 
striking his head against the sharp edge of the 
altar, begins to bleed afresh. Seeing this, the 
Sister presses him gently back upon the pillows. 

From dark until dawn, " Catholic Knights," 
that gallant body-guard of the King, keep watch 
beside the invalid, — himself his Sovereign's 
knight — the gentle Galahad of the truth. 

Day comes again, a royal day of June. Like 
an Oriental queen, she rises in the East, trails 
her blazing robes across the heavens, gathers 
them closely round her in a golden column for 



384 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

her noonday pose mid-air, then spreading them 
fold on fold athwart the West, descends unto her 
twilight chambers. 

Meanwhile, within the convent parlor, our mis- 
sionary has rested well ; a deep and healing 
sleep has visited his couch, and in consequence of 
the same, and the invalid's earnest request, prep- 
arations have been made to remove him home, — 
back to the people who have become in very 
deed his life-blood, and to whom he has given 
life more abundantly in the systole and diastole 
of love and inspiration. 

It is now the 28th of June, of the year 1898. 
Midsummer unfolds like a mighty poppy, breath- 
ing intoxicating, enervating incense upon nature, 
and on men. Soon, Sirius will burn, a living 
jewel in the heavens. The great heat becomes 
almost tangible, and folds like a fiery shroud 
about the exhausted frame of Louis Tally, as the 
carriage which has met the Jackson train, stops 
at the gate of the little Meridian presbytery. 
Borne upon the arms of his parishioners, the 
pastor of St. Patrick's reenters his home. Once 
within the familiar walls, sweet peace descends 
upon his spirit, and when the summer night falls 



THE GATES AJAR. 385 

gently down, Louis Yally slumbers long and 
dreamlessly, his wearj heart beating softly for 
his people, his people's hearts throbbing anx- 
iously for him. 

Morning comes apace ; the little English spar- 
rows twitter blithely in the trees of the church- 
yard, and the fresh rose-scented breath of the 
dawn plaj^s like a benediction above the couch of 
the invalid. Through the window, now opened 
by the Sister of Mercy in attendance, the daz- 
zling blue of the heavens is seen. Thrilled with 
the life and the joy of the season and the hour, 
the missionary's comrade and coworker, Charlie, 
pushes his sagacious head through the casement, 
and gazes with almost human pity upon his 
prostrate master. Eaising himself to a sitting 
posture, Louis Yally rests his emaciated hand on 
the horse's neck. As he does so, a responsive 
neigh rolls through the little apartment, startling 
the Sister of Mercy on duty, and causing her to 
spill a few drops of the medicine she is pouring 
for the invalid. 

As the hours wear on, the glad presage of the 
morning seems realized, the missionar}^ continues 
to rally, it may be that the shepherd will guide 



3S6 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

his fold for yet a little while. "When the shad- 
ows begin to gather, however, and the weird, 
mysterious shadows of the twilight issue from 
their dusky homes, a sudden weakness blanches 
the face of Louis Yally once more, and dim for- 
getfulness draws its veil across his faculties. As 
the holy hour of midnight strikes, the mission- 
ary's senses are wrapped in sleep, — a sleep so 
quiet that the watcher almost fears the passing 
of the shepherd into the outer Calm. 

Hastily, the young assistant priest, Eev. 
Father Greimel, is summoned. Soon the little 
room is transformed into an audience chamber, 
for the King comes forth to sustain his servant. 
The life-giving oil sinks into the flesh of the in- 
valid, renewing his spirit like crystal dew. Be- 
neath its virile influence, the bud of love blooms 
into ecstasy, and the half-blown flowers of faith 
and hope unfold to perfect amaranths. The 
years of his sojourn in the American Mission roll 
back from the burning heart of the stricken 
pastor, consciousness gradually returns, the musi- 
cal language of his native land leaps once more 
to his lips, and the mighty vigor of the Extreme 
Unction, flashing its glories through the soul. 



THE GATES AJAR. 387 

exalts, transforms, rejuvenates, the wasted body 
of him, likewise, into the transient semblance of 
health. For one bright, mystical moment, the 
gates of the J^ew Jerusalem, wherein the Eternal 
David reigneth, stand ajar, and the being of the 
Yallys' son is bathed in the uncreated light 
thereof. " And the city had no need of the sun, 
neither of the moon to shine in it ; for the glory 
of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light 
thereof." But the guardian spirits close the por- 
tals, and the Sovereign, denying His servant for 
the nonce, entrance into the Golden City, sends 
the gentlest of His angels to bring him human 
sleep. 

Thus, sometimes, conscious of the bloom and 
beauty of midsummer, sometimes wandering 
amid spirit lands where every flower is sweet 
with God, and the whispers of the King are 
heard along the silver streams, the son of Lavau- 
dieu lives on in intermittent suffering, ministered 
unto, by day, by the Daughters of Catherine 
Mac-Auley ; by night, by the sorrowing mem- 
bers of his little flock. 

The feast of the Assumption is at hand. As 
the royal festival, his Sovereign Lady's day, 



388 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

draws near, new strength courses like wine 
through the emaciated frame of the missionary, 
and subtle force thrilled from the heart of the 
Queen of Angels, animates his mind and spirit. 
The resistless desire to work, to labor once more 
ere his "ISTunc Dimittis" is said, burns like a 
fierce fever through the soul and body of Louis 
Tally. Calling for his stole, the insignia he 
loved best, the missionary raises himself upon 
his pillows, and the Spirit broods above the cot, 
as the Sisters of Mercy kneel beside the impro- 
Tised tribunal. The people, hearing that their 
pastor will again listen, and in all human proba- 
bility, for the last time, to their sorrows and 
their sins, flock to the presbytery, and prostrate 
themselves in gladness and in love before the 
stricken shepherd, the sweet odor of whose life 
becomes an ever richer fragrance as the vessel 
that contains it is broken by the hand of physi- 
cal suffering. 

The character of man, molded by labor and 
sacrifice and the action of Divine inspiration, 
polished by love and by tears into a perfect 
sphere, must show the finely-cut tracer}'' of pa- 
tience before its beauty is complete. Hitherto, 



THE GATES AJAR. 389 

the life of Louis Yally has been the pursuit of 
ideals, — through difficulties, dangers, sufferings, 
it is true, but the joy, the stimulus of action has 
rarely been taken from. him. l^ow the ardent, 
aspiring soul of the missionary is harassed and 
circumvented by a perishing organism, and in 
this condition lies the crucial test of the spiritual 
metal of the son of Lavaudieu. Many heroes 
can dare and struggle, can hew a pathway to 
their ends through the granite heart of adverse 
environment, but few men grow to their perfect 
spiritual stature when disabled by disease from 
familiar fields of action. Yet so surely as the 
seed must abide in the darkness and the deso- 
lation of the mold, awaiting the touch of the 
elemental forces to cause it to germinate, and to 
bring it forth a green and perfect plant, so must 
the human soul, in patience and in passivity, be 
withdrawn at times from the labors of its lot 
and in a solemn Sabbath of silence and self- 
abnegation await the living breath of its Creator. 
And with a strength derived from its mighty 
source, the soul of Louis Yally waits, and waiting 
receives new peace and power. 

Meanwhile, the people throng the Sovereign's 



390 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

audience chamber, and ask the boon of the shep- 
herd's life. A novena of public prayer is offered 
to the Queen of Heaven, for the well-beloved 
steward of her Son. It is the eve of the Assump- 
tion, — the vigil of her coronation, and largess 
must be given to the people. 

The festival dawns, and fine exhilaration fills 
the hearts of the little flock, as the missionary, 
leaving his bed for the first time, is led to the 
King's antechamber, and seated in an easy chair, 
assists at the gi'eat Sacrifice. This transient 
recoil of disease, routed by the resistless might 
of spiritual forces, constitutes the Indian summer 
of his life. The pallid crystals of the death-frost 
are forming, but the fervid sun of Louis Yally's 
soul, battling with the powers of decay, gives 
the semblance of vigor to his mortal frame. His 
people's hopes revive in the delusive sunlight, but 
the steward has heard the Master's summons, and 
knows that the winter of his sojourn is close at 
hand, and that the earth mother must claim her 
offering, — the fading body of him. 

All deep emotions are calm, all crises of spirit 
and of nature silent ; and the life of man, issuing 
from the glorious calm of one eternit}^, is merged 



THE GATES AJAR. 391 

again into the other, having sounded meanwhile, 
the magical gamut of earthly experiences and 
emotions. And as the mystic shadows of the 
Infinite begin to fall about the failing priest, a 
deeper serenity comes to mind and heart, and 
the strong tendrils of his affections, gradually 
detaching themselves from his earthly environ- 
ment, twine more closely about the immutable 
glories of his King. Hitherto, to live, to labor, 
to endure, — days of virile work, nights half con- 
sumed by toil, in the Sovereign's service, had 
been the desideratum of his spirit. Hitherto, his 
individuality, his very being, has merged so to 
speak, in the entities of his fellow creatures ; 
now the development of his own spirit becomes 
a conscious development. Hitherto, the Master's 
■work in other lives has been his primary thought ; 
now the steward grows introspective, and looks 
more closely to the wonders w^rought by the 
King within his individual nature. In achiev- 
ing his work and his destiny, Louis Yally has 
heretofore trusted blindly to the Divine Artist, 
losing his life to find it. Now that the designs 
of the Master Workman in his ow^n behalf are 
gradually unfolding before his keener spiritual 



392 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

vision, a strong new yearning to be plastic to the 
Master's hand, to become, rather than to accom- 
plish, to grow, rather than to build, floods all his 
being with desire. It is the impassive, and there- 
fore the receptive state of the human soul, the 
magical condition-flower of grace, and fruit of 
prayer, in which the Supreme Spirit works its 
miracles. To die then, to the body, to put off 
the armor of battle and follow the King into 
His sealed Council Chamber, in brief, to do the 
Master's will, and accomplish His plans by in- 
action instead of labor, becomes the supreme 
necessity to Louis Tally, and absorbs and exhila- 
rates his faculties. It is the perfect conformity 
of the creature to the inscrutable designs of the 
Creator. 

In this exalted spiritual mood, the servant w^ho 
has erstwhile actively served and sought the 
King, finds himself in an especial manner sought 
and favored by his Sovereign. The daily vigils 
in the audience chamber of the little church, are 
now impossible, because of physical weakness. 
And so, the Master comes unto His steward's 
house, and brings His royal gifts to make glori- 
ous the sufferer's spirit. Small wonder, there- 



THE GATES AJAR. 393 

fore, that at this crisis, our missionary, en- 
couraged by his people to hope for a yet longer 
span of human life, invariably replies, — " My 
Sovereign's will is always best." 

Saint and sage, prophet and priest, philosopher 
and scientist reecho the answer around the 
world ; and the mighty truth, ascending through 
the spheres unto the utmost heaven is repeated 
by the fire-lipped seraphim near the throne. 

Drives through the royal midsummer woods 
can now be taken by the invalid, and the glow- 
ing panorama of meadow-land and forest utters 
sublime gospels to his spirit, deepening a thou- 
sandfold the profound love of nature, — so inte- 
gral a part of his being in these, the farewell 
days among her scenes. 

From the commodious presbytery among the 
Yicksburg hills, Kev. H. A. Picherit, the cKer 
ami of Father Yally, sends an urgent invitation 
to the latter lo become an inmate of his, Father 
Picherit's home, cherishing the frail hope that 
the climate of the Hill City and the companion- 
ship of a fellow countryman will rivet anew the 
weakening bonds of the flesh that but feebly de- 
tain the fluttering spirit of the King's steward. 



394 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Sweet is the music of his native tongue to the 
ear of the missionary exile ; and inspiring the 
harmonies of perfect friendship and understand- 
ing that flow between the devoted compatriots. 
But difficult breathing on the part of the invalid 
guest begins to make prolonged conversation 
impossible. The buoyant talks, the mutual rem- 
iniscences, dear and sad, must be exchanged 
for a monody on the part of the Yicksburg 
pastor, ^vith but rare verbal response from the 
son of Lavaudieu. For thirty j^ears, the great 
Atlantic waste has flowed between Louis Yally 
and his native shores ; now, the solemn tides of 
silence lave his heart, bearing it steadily onward 
to, — the birthland of the human souL 

In the heart of the picturesque " Hill City," 
stand the noble buildings of St. Francis Xavier's 
Convent, the mother house of the Sisters of 
Mercy, in the state of Mississippi. The beauti- 
ful chapel thereof is a favorite dwelling place of 
the King. The snowy lilies that garland the 
central arch burst into pure flame when the 
Sovereign comes out upon His throne. There, 
the flowers linger long, as though loth to leave 
so sweet a spot, and the incense, fragrant 



THE GATES AJAR. 395 

aftermath of prayer, hovers, like a spirit in the 
air for dim and holy hours after Benediction. 
Up the altar steps of this fair and fragrant fane, 
Louis Yally totters feebly, when his now fast 
ebbing strength will permit him to stand. Upon 
the celebration of the tremendous Sacrifice, every 
faculty of his being is concentrated. Spirit and 
intellect and will are inebriated by supreme de- 
sire for that transcendent union with the Divine, 
effected by the mighty Mystery of the Species. 
Almost falling on the altar one morning, he is 
begged to desist from the daily Mass ; at the 
mere suggestion, a delusive vigor permeates 
voice and frame, and with solemn emphasis he 
exclaims ; — " Ask me anything but to fail to 
meet my King, at Consecration, during the few 
days that remain to me on earth." 

One still evening in late summer, after an 
hour of solemn reverie, — an hour when the 
spirit of the King's steward was closeted with 
the King, an expression of utter melancholy 
darkened the mobile features of the missionary, 
falling cloud-like upon their habitual sunny 
peace. IS'oting the change and the shadow, a 
Sister of Mercy with whom he had been convers- 



396 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

ing, places her hand quietly upon the emaciated 
ones of the invalid, and speaks to him bright 
words of hope for a return of physical strength. 
"My daughter," and the sorrowful eyes of 
Louis Yally utter gentle reproach as he answers, 
" nay, you know that is not so, and you likewise 
mistake my grief. I have long since heard my 
summons ; — the Master's will be done. I mourn 
not for my departed strength, but for my past." 
" Your past ! my Father," exclaims the amazed 
religious, " your past has been as the past of yon- 
der lily, a time of pure and perfect growth, — the 
following of the motions of the Spirit, the per- 
petual correspondence with the Master's inspira- 
tions. You have used your talents well, the 

King " " What is all that before the Infinite, 

my daughter ? " The voice of Meridian's pastor 
is vibrant with emotion. " I have been a priest 
of God for thirty years ; if in that time I have 
had but one shortcoming daily, — but one disloyal 
wish or thought, the King's ambassador has 
strangely failed." Her utterance choked by 
sobs, the Sister of Mercy answers not, but points 
silently to the picture of the Man of Sorrows 
above the mantel. His human heart aflame with 



THE GATES AJAR. 397 

immeasurable tenderness for humanity his breth- 
ren, the face of the Sinless One seems to shed re- 
proach upon the son of Lavaudieu ; softly its 
message flashes home to the soul of Louis Yally. 
Upon his spirit, the supreme truth of Christian 
philosophy bursts in sun-like grandeur. By faith 
is man made whole. God's strength shall arm 
thy weakness, God's love shall supply thy inef- 
ficiency. 

Exquisite joy bathes the soul of the invalid in 
light, chasing the gloom from heart and feature, 
permeating his being with celestial radiance. It 
is the supreme development of the spirit during 
its earthly probation, the zenith of its power, the 
ultimatum of its possibilities in the mortal state. 
Softly the guardians of the heavenly portals 
swing the glittering gates once more ajar ; this 
time unveiling more dazzling glory to the rav- 
ished spirit of the missionary. For one great, 
swift moment, the face of Louis Yally is bright 
with inspiration. "And He that sat upon the 
throne said, 'Behold, I make all things new. 
. . . I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning 
and the end. I will give to him that is athirst 
of the fountain of the water of life freely.' " 



398 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KIXG. 

The whole man has become transformed, and a 
note of triumph rings through his voice, as the 
invalid speaks once more to the Sister of Mercy : — 

" You are right, my daughter ; all will be well, 
nay, all is well, now and forevermore." 

And thus the shepherd of Lavaudieu, because 
of his unquestioning conformity with the designs 
of the Great Shepherd, has been led step by step 
up the sublime pathway of spiritual evolution, 
until it stands upon the threshold of the Holy of 
Holies. 

Dull, sodden, depressing to human vision, dawns 
the sorrowful day when Eev. Henry Picherit, 
with the tenderness of a parent for its stricken 
little one, aids Louis Yally to prepare for his 
journey back to Meridian. Without, all is dull 
and cheerless, and the landscape seems one vast 
sob, but within the heart of the sufferer dwells 
immortal sunshine, though his eyes are dim with 
tears and his voice is broken with emotion. The 
sojourn in the Yicksburg presbytery was the last 
feeble hope to which his people clung, but the 
garment of his flesh was already loosened, and 
neither time nor change has power to regird the 
corrupting fabric around the soul. But one de- 



THE GATES AJAR. 399 

sire now remains to our missionary, — the desire 
to return to his little flock, and then, — to the 
King. 

A last, almost silent visit is made by Louis 
Yally to the convent of " St. Francis Xavier," 
from the doors of which, nearly a quarter of a 
century before, had issued the soldiei's of sacri- 
fice at his call, the soldiers who had fought the 
Master's battles by his (Louis Tally's) side. 

Mutely, the sad-faced nuns glide into the Ora- 
tory where a great armchair has been wheeled 
for the invalid. One by one, with reverence akin 
to awe, they kiss the pallid hands of the beloved 
father-friend, then, — then, with common impulse, 
kneel to receive his farewell blessing. 

So still the great, dim apartment, that one can 
almost hear the heart-throbs of the Christ from 
His Tabernacle barely ten yards distant. The 
white robes of Mary Immaculate glimmer and 
seem to stir in the shadowy niche at the left of 
the altar, and from Mother and Son comes the 
same voiceless message, that reached the soul of 
Louis Yally in the Trappist Monastery of Geth- 
semane : — " There are no partings for those who 
dwell in God." 



400 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Followed by the entire community, supported, 
almost carried, by Kev. Henry Picherit, the son 
of Simon and Marie Yally descends the convent 
steps, and turning, casts a look of yearning ten- 
derness upon the building. *' For the last time," 
he murmurs almost inaudibly, only those nearest 
him hearing the whisper. But the quick ear of 
Father Picherit catches it, and the arm that sup- 
ports the invalid trembles perceptibly. 

A half hour of waiting in the dingy depot, 
while a fine drizzle saturates the air, and breeds 
ill odors in the stuffy, tobacco-reeking apartment. 
Half an hour ! during which the friends live 
vital moments charged with love, fraught with 
infinite significance. Each knows that when he 
meets his brother once again, it will be in the 
visible presence of the Eternal Friend. 

As the train steams into the depot, Henry 
Picherit strains the pastor of Meridian to his 
heart, resigns him to the care of the gentlemen 
who are to attend him upon his journey, and 
turning swiftly away, departs in silence. 

And between the exiles, fall the shadow and 
the m3^stery of the tomb. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

TABOR 

The hand of the Master Musician, evoking the 
great symphony of a noble life, now touches the 
final chord of the earth history of the son of 
Lavaudieu. A period of phj^sical exhaustion fol- 
lows his return journey to Meridian. Then the 
golden day of '' All Saints," ripening like a per- 
fect fruit upon the immortal orchard of the King, 
brings with it a slight return of vigor to the in- 
valid, as though the strong life throbbing from 
the countless hosts of the Eedeemed, permeated 
all his being with a foretaste of eternal power 
and joy. Once more the steward can seek the 
temporal audience-chamber of the Master ; once 
more, in the little chapel of St. Aloysius' con- 
vent, the all-compelling words are uttered, and 
the Supreme Power of the Universe responds 
instantly to the call of the perishing child of the 
dust, because of the imperishable Image that 
dwells within the mask of clay. Sustained at 

401 



402 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

the vital moments by the power of his spirit, the 
overtaxed frame of the celebrant totters as the 
Eite draws to its end. At its conclusion, Louis 
Yally is led by an attendant back to the little 
chamber that in a few days will prove his " Janua 
Coeli." The son of Simon and Marie has passed 
beyond human aid, and despite the almost pater- 
nal care of Dr. Lowry, physician and friend, the 
end comes slowly, and the Death Angel stands 
upon the threshold. 

Two or three days of increasing weakness, and 
the servant at last, must lay him down upon the 
couch, to await the coming of his Lord. 

The glory of Indian summer has faded into 
the gray of chill JN'ovember days, which follow 
each other like pallid mourners at the bier of the 
year. But the windows of the sick man's cham- 
ber are thrown wide to admit the cutting air, for 
the life-breath comes with difficulty to the 
sufferer. 

And his people gather, — the sheep of this 
shepherd ; and they press about him, touching 
his bloodless hands with their lips, striving, by 
the strength of their great love to detain his 
spirit in its mortal habitation. 



TABOR. 403 

But another and a greater love is drawing the 
soul of the missionary into its all encompassing 
soul. And patiently, cheerily, joyously, the 
King's steward abandons himself unto the King. 

His scanty earthly goods are now to be dis- 
posed of ; and calling in the man of the law, he 
bequeathes the shining vestments brought from 
his native land, and regarded as his most precious 
possession, to whoso shall succeed him as ambas- 
sador of the Most High in the little mission. 
The royal Chalice (once the treasure of a vener- 
able archbishop of Paris), that has so often held 
the thrice royal Blood of the Lamb, is likewise 
left, a priceless heritage, to the next shepherd of 
the Meridian flock, with the request that the Su- 
preme Oblation should be offered fifty times for 
the spirit of Louis Yally. 

A knight by nature in the chivalry of the 
King, the dying missionary is likewise a knight 
by name, as for years he has worn the simple in- 
signia of that strong and growing order, the 
" Catholic Knights of America." In this associ- 
ation, his life has been insured ; and the insur- 
ance in question is now left by his testament for 
the education of a young seminarian, — the train- 



404: FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

ing of an aspiring and vigorous spirit for the 
Order of Melchizedek. 

" I would be buried by my people ; buried as a 
poor man with the humble paraphernalia that 
would enclose the dust of the least among 
them ; " replies the missionary when asked to in- 
dicate his final wishes, — " In life I have owned 
nothing but my King's commission ; in death I 
would have nothing save His glory." 

And those around him answer not, for all the 
place seems bright with God. 

The perishing body of Louis Yally begins to 
gasp, almost to sob for breath. The Spirit of 
Suffering presses her burning brow upon his 
heart. Solid nourishment becomes impossible, 
only a little food now binds the feeble dust gar- 
ment to the soul. Agony stands by night at the 
invalid's pillow, and so great becomes the travail 
of the flesh that the Sister of Mercy, watching 
his bedside, steals silently out to bring the priest 
and the great Death Unction, for the spirit of 
the shepherd about to tear itself from its earthly 
moorings. But all the while, although he has 
entered, indeed, the "Yalley of the Shadow," 
Keason lifts her holy torch on high, and 



TABOR. 405 

Consciousness looks calmly through the weary 
eyes of the sufferer. 

Eev. Sylvester Greimel comes anon, — a young 
man newly signed with the sign of the priest- 
hood ; and the steward, standing at the gate of 
the King's earthly vineyard, anoints the steward 
upon the threshold of His uncreated Throne. 
Ever the royal tree of Levi must bourgeon and 
bloom, dispensing salvation as sweet odor through 
creation, bearing the golden fruit of Truth from 
generation to generation. Priest must follow 
priest, life must follow life, human sacrifice, and 
heart oblations, and holocausts of human wills 
must follow each other in an unbroken succes- 
sion, until the sun shall perish, and the earth 
falls back into the bosom of its Maker. Priests 
must die, but the priesthood lives ! The branches 
of Levi perish, the root, Levi, is immortal ! 
" Gather in and call all my senses unto Thee ; " 
repeats the feeble voice of the Yallys' son, as a 
Daughter of Catherine Mac-Auley reads, between 
her tears, his favorite chapter from the Imita- 
tion. " Gather in and call all my senses home 
unto Thee," echoes the bounding heart of the 
sufferer. " Gather in and call all my being unto 



406 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Thee," pleads the eager spirit of the dying 
missionary, panting, longing, for eternal day. 

" Behold ! " continues the reader, " to the 
saints it shineth, glowing with everlasting 
brightness." 

" To the saints it shineth," sobs the heart ; 
"To me it beckoneth," cries the soul of Louis 
Yally. " Succor me, O Thou Everlasting Truth." 

"My v^hole desire sigheth after Thee," the 
Sister of Mercy reads on. 

And echoed by the heart, and a thousand 
times reechoed by the spirit of the son of 
Lavaudieu, the words of supreme yearning ring 
upon the Throne. 

Turning upon his pillow, the missionary 
sleeps the trance-like sleep of exhaustion. He 
must wait, — the hour of liberty is yet delayed. 

When Louis Yally wakes once more, there are 
many kneeling around his couch to each of 
whom he gives comfort and the fulness of bene- 
diction. 

A young maiden, one of the five of his especial 
adoption, seizes his hand, and cries aloud in the 
keen agony of girlhood : — " Father, do not leave 
us — here — alone." " My child," the missionary's 



TABOR. 407 

voice sounds strangely clear and strong upon the 
deep hush of the room, " my little one, I go to 
that home I have tried to teach you to love." 

And the maiden cannot answer, for her soul 
is sobbing now. 

The heart of Louis Yally bleeds afresh, but 
the King comes to him in Sacramental union, 
bringing "Solid peace, peace secure and undis- 
turbed, peace within and peace without." 

About the spirit, and reflected upon the coun- 
tenance of the dying man there shines so fair a 
light, caught from the glory of the transfigured 
Christ, that the hearts of the mourners within 
the silent chamber, exclaim with the Apostles 
upon the Wonderful Mountain; "Lord, it is 
good for us to be here." 

And this light, which is power and peace, will 
never more depart from the shepherd of Lavau- 
dieu, though the woe of his body is exceedingly 
great, and the Spirit of Suffering folds him yet 
closer in her embrace. 

From the core of his spirit, the love light 
springs to the fading eyes of the missionary, as 
he presses his rapturous kisses upon the trans- 
fixed Saviour, his deep emotion finds utterance : 



408 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

" Oh ! what a loving God He has been to 
me!" 

Silent, weeping, sobbing, his people continue 
to gather, — a human, stream, a tide of sorrowing 
souls, flowing all day beside his couch, flowing 
all day into his heart, flooding his spirit to the 
brim with the living waters of affection. And 
from dawn to dusk, within the little church, the 
prayers of the flock for its shepherd, ascend be- 
fore the King like incense from an inexhaustible 
thurible. Mindful, even in the last agonized 
moments of love and gentle courtesy, the son of 
the Yallys constrains his feeble voice to dictate 
words of gratitude to be written to the many 
who have sent offerings of fruit and flowers to 
alleviate his sufferings. 

A dreary octave of days has passed since the 
mighty Unction kindled the spirit of our mission- 
ary with uncreated joy. When asked, during 
that interval, whether any earthly desire yet 
remained to him, Louis Yally made answer : " If 
the King wills, I should like to live until Father 
Bekkers, my friend, returns from Holland." 

Rev. J. B. Bekkers, now pastor of the Merid- 
ian mission, and shepherd of the flock, gathered, 



TABOR. 409 

nurtured, and purified by the life-work of the 
son of Lavaudieu, is likewise a self-elected exile 
from home and kindred, and has been an apos- 
tolic laborer in the Master's virgin field, the 
souls of the sorrowful remnant of the Indians of 
North America. 

Between Louis Yally and Bartholomew Bek- 
kers a close and mutually inspiring friendship 
has existed. And now, the dying pastor of St. 
Patrick's longs with a deep longing to behold 
his comrade and colaborer once more. And the 
Eternal Lover of them both, having heard the 
simple wish, guides the bark of the traveler 
safely through the sea, guides the steps of the 
missionary from Holland tenderly through the 
perils of the land, until they pause beside the 
couch of the missionary from Lavaudieu. 

The embrace a strong man gives to a beloved 
brother, — the kiss a strong man presses upon a 
dying comrade's brow, and the first shock of the 
meeting is over. 

Exhausted almost to prostration, Louis Yally 
falls heavily back upon his pillows, and the 
sturdy arms of the Dutch priest steal protect- 
ingly about the emaciated shoulders of the son 



410 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

of France, drawing the wearj head of the dying 
man caressingly to his breast. Through a blind- 
ing mist of tears, the friends look silently at one 
another. Then, as though some subtle request 
had been made by spirit to spirit, Bartholomew 
Bekkers gently withdraws his embrace from the 
sufferer, and hastily leaves the sick chamber. In 
a few moments, he returns, bearing to his com- 
rade their mutual Lord. And with the Christ 
between them, — the seal and significance of 
every perfect friendship, the comrades look once 
more into one another's eyes, — into one another's 
souls. And beholding the look, the Sister of 
Mercy in attendance, bends low above the couch, 
and while the King enters the eager heart of 
Louis Tally, tells the rosary of her tears. 

Saturday evening comes, and long after sunset, 
a shimmering, gauze-like light is drawn across 
the west, as though Nature were robing for her 
Sabbath bridal with the Lord. Through the 
quiet and the gold, sounds the Angelus bell, 
"and all the hour is sweet with prayer." Sud- 
denly, upon the holy calm, the voice of the in- 
valid, — grown strong and clear — is heard by the 
watching Daughter of Catherine Mac-Auley ; — 



TABOR. 411 

" Sister, what boon shall I ask of the King for 
you, when I reach our heavenly home ? " Start- 
ing from her golden revery upon her Spouse, the 
Bride of the Lamb replies : — " Request that in 
His Kingdom, I too, may dwell beside my 
Lord." " Even so, my daughter, then will I en- 
treat that you and all His spouses in this com- 
munity, who have been my hands and feet dur- 
ing these weary months, may be gathered into 
the Mansion of His Love." 

Deep, still night comes down, every hour an 
Angel of Strong Agony draining his chalice at 
the lips of the sufferer. Every hour, likewise, an 
Angel of Light, bringing power, and peace, and 
keenness to his faculties. The spirit's triumph is 
at hand, and touching with the wand of its 
supremacy, the quivering, agonized flesh, the 
body becomes a fine instrument upon which the 
intellect and will of the dying man play won- 
drous harmonies. Gethsemane is passed, and the 
vision of Tabor, breaking upon the dark, 
kindles, like the slowly rising moon, all the being 
of the dying man to glory. Still, the Spirits of 
Suffering gather about the couch of Louis Yally, 
poising their chalices so that not one dreg shall 



412 FOR THE H0:N'0II OF THE KING. 

escape untasted, but the Spirits of Light are 
more powerful, and the whole frame of the mis- 
sionary glows with the ecstasy of the Divine. 
" Can w^e do anything for you, my Father ? " 
asks the Sister of Mercy, when for one awful 
moment the Spirits of Suffering seem triumphant. 
" Only tell me, my Daughter, tell me often, that 
this great agony is the will of the King." 

The fair and sacred prophecy of the dawn lies 
on the east ; and the wide calm that precedes 
sunrise, broods, dove-like, above the world. A 
brief, but sweet respite comes to the son of the 
Yallys, — a precious moment during which the 
Spirits of Suffering retreat, and the Spirits of 
Light draw near and minister unto him. 

Raising himself upon his elbow, the dying man 
turns his face unto the east, just faintly kindled 
with the day, as the vast wings of a seraph might 
kindle, when out of measureless distance they catch 
the awful glory that burns around the throne. 

And as he looks, the morning breaks, earth 
and heaven are transfigured. Flaming banners 
unfurl from horizon to zenith, as though the 
armies of the Lord were marching up the east, 
each battalion bearing pennons of living light. 



TABOR. 413 

" O ! King," exclaims the joyous spirit of our 
missionary, " it is good for me to be here ! " 
And again the King makes answer : " It is good." 
And the lips of the sufferer voice the ecstasy 
of his soul : " What a beautiful day is at hand ! " 
Turning to the young man, — a member of the 
Catholic Knights, in attendance, Louis Yally re- 
quests: "Change my garments, my son, make 
me ready for my people. They will come to me 
after the High Mass." 

And as they robe him for the visit of his flock, 
his spirit is quietly unloosing the frail cordage of 
the flesh, — silently clothing itself in robes of un- 
created splendor. Over the countenance of the 
dying priest, the passing soul draws its reverent 
death mist like a veil. 

A Sister of Mercy, who reenters the death 
chamber after a brief absence, beholds the supr-eme 
change, and sobbingly questions the sufferer: 
" My Father, how do you feel ? " 

" So weak, my daughter, oh ! so very weak." 
" Surely we may do something for you ! " 
"Yes, I need much air, my child, — open the 
inner door." Eeturning to the couch, the Daugh- 
ter of Catherine Mac-Auley presses the Crucifix 



414 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

once more to the lips of the dying man. One 
kiss for the royal feet — one kiss for each of the 
pierced hands — one kiss for the broken heart — 
and — the inner door has opened — the shepherd 
stands in the presence of the King. 

As the spirit enters the eternal audience cham- 
ber, the triumphant notes of the Preface fly like 
seraphim through the open windows of the 
church, where High Mass is being sung, and 
hover around the bed, — now the bier of the 
pastor of St. Patrick's : " Holy, holy, holy, Lord 
God of Sabaoth." And from the celestial places 
the angelic choirs, thrones, dominations, powers, 
virtues, principalities, cherubim, seraphim, angels 
and archangels, with one accord repeat : " Blessed 
is he that cometh in the name of the Lord ! " 



CHAPTEE XXIY 

THE king's token 

And when the faithful servant stood in the 
Sovereign's presence, the King stretched forth His 
hand, and removing the Royal Token, which, dur- 
ing his earth life, the missionary had worn iipon 
his heart, set it as a jewel upon the Irow of the 
leloved steward. And the light thereof shone 
afar, even unto the uttermost ends of the King's 
dominions ; and the name of the Token is Love. 
And the exceeding beauty of the Token, and a 
faint reflection of its radiance glows even upon 
the abandoned tenement of clay,— the body of 
the steward, that lies in the King's earthly audi- 
ence chamber, the little church of St. Patrick, 
Vvrapped in an eternal calm. 

Ever, during his mortal pilgrimage, the seal 
wherewith the redeemed are sealed,— love— love 
for all animate life, love that draweth love as 
the magnet draweth the needle— had dwelt 
within the soul, and been worn as an imperial 
415 



416 FOR THE HOJ^OR OF THE KING. 

signet upon the heart of Louis Yallj, revealing 
itself at times through eye and voice and gesture, 
revealing its presence always in the long immo- 
lation of his life. 'Now, upon the white, dead 
brow of the sleeper, Love, the beautiful golden 
Seal of the King, shines gloriously, and looking 
upon the Token, a great tenderness surges like a 
mighty sea over the hearts of his bereaved 
people. 

They have lain him in the church of his predi- 
lection, — the church of his building, his Master's 
House, — and at the feet of his Lord. Here, in 
the shadowy aisle, for twilight comes apace, the 
candles gleam and glitter like the brows of 
seraphim at prayer. Here, in the shadowy aisle, 
the silent procession of the people moves mourn- 
fully along, the great hush broken, anon, by the 
low, half stifled sob of some aged mourner, 
whose staff of life the departed shepherd has 
ever been. It is as though the heart of Sorrow 
were bleeding, bleeaing and breaking upon the 
icy heart of Death. 

And up the twilight aisles comes night ; the 
watchers who are to keep guard during the still 
dark hours begin to arrive, and gently, almost 



THE KING'S TOKEN. 417 

tenderly press back the mute and mournful mul- 
titude, — press them to the door of the church 
which is softly closed and now — the vigil with 
Silence and with the Dead. 

The members of the Catholic Knights, beloved 
brethren of the deceased, have been appointed to 
keep watch, and reverently they fulfill their 
trust, — less a watch beside the clay of Louis 
Yally, than communion with the spirit of the 
knightly shepherd just beyond the Yeil. 

It is now the morning of Wednesday, — the 
third dawn since the Sabbath sunrise that wit- 
nessed the passing of the son of Lavaudieu. The 
interim has been given to his people, to their 
love and to their grief, l^ow, the body of him 
must be laid to rest, — pressed back into the 
home of nature, to regenerate the earth, to pass 
through strong mutations ; in time, itself to be 
gloriously regenerated. 

The last preparations have been made ; and 
the saints and prophets \L)pon the stained glass 
windows of the little church begin to thrill with 
glory at the electric touch of dawn upon the day 
of the final ceremonies. 

As on the occasions of the dedication of St. 



418 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

Patrick's, and the more recent festival of the 
Silver Jubilee, for this golden triumph of the 
French missionary, all of his brother laborers, 
pastors who can leave their parishes for a brief 
span of time, assembled to give the final tribute 
of honor to their departed comrade. 

The clustered candles shine star-like in the 
sable sconces, — for the day is dark and a light 
rain falling. From pillar to pillar, from arch to 
arch, from v^dndow to window, are festooned the 
sombre draperies ; but above them, waved by 
hands invisible, immortal palm and laurel boughs 
sway to the voices of celestial lutes, whose fine 
and far off melody is felt, though heard not, by 
all who surround the bier. 

The robes of the celebrants at the altar, — of 
the Right Reverend Bishop Heslin ; of Henry 
Picherit, archpriest ; of Florimond Blanc, deacon ; 
of Bartholomew Bekkers, subdeacon ; of James 
McCafferty, master of ceremonies ; are of deep- 
est black, but the garments of the celestial wit- 
nesses who stand unseen amid the throng, have 
taken on new glory because of joy in the joy and 
the emancipation of the King's steward. 

The Benedictus, Sanctus, and Agmis Dei, of 



THE KING'S TOKEN. 419 

Gounod's "Solemn Mass of St. Cecilia," have 
chimed their mighty notes of praise and pleading 
like sweet and solemn bells of victory. Up in 
the choir loft, two voices the sleeping shepherd 
loved, — those of Mrs. Katie Allen and Miss Mar- 
garet Crowe of Meridian, both former pupils of 
the little catechism class, and the latter, one of 
Louis Tally's adopted five — have sung out the 
glorious themes. And up in the choir loft, that 
orphan of the dead priest's heart, sits heroically 
at the organ, evoking the grand harmonies while 
every note is a separate pain, every chord a 
strong agony threatening to overwhelm her soul 
and paralyze her body ; for the quiet form in the 
aisle below was father and friend as well as 
pastor,— all that stood for joy and counsel, all 
that represented the tenderest parental care. 
What wonder then, if his " Pride," needs, her- 
self, to be sustained ? And sustained she is by 
the great love of the Supreme Parent to pay the 
last noble tribute to the guardian and foster 
father He had called unto Himself. 

A solid mass of humanity fills the nave of the 
church, crowding the pews to their utmost 
capacity, and overflowing into the aisles, pressing 



420 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

with the zeal of strong affection about the coffin 
of the dead priest. Some hearts among them 
know the tragedy that is enacting above in the 
choir; and tears, not for the deceased shepherd, 
but for the living orphan, spring to eyes long 
since unused to weeping. Pausing before the 
altar rail, the master of ceremonies bids the peo- 
ple come forward, and look for the last time 
upon their leader's face. With a reverence as 
though treading upon thrice holy ground, the 
immense congregation advances. Though closely 
packed to the inner doorway, nay, beyond it, on 
the little portico, down the front steps and into 
the street, no murmur of confusion arises from 
the vast multitude, no impatient act is seen, but 
heart beats against heart in the fraternal sym- 
pathy of a common sorrow. By every one pres- 
ent, the humanizing and refining power of the 
great love incarnate in the still form of the Yal- 
lys' son, is insensibly felt and made manifest in 
his conduct. 

Still they come ; the old and the infirm, the 
blind, the young, the poor, the rich, and the 
little ones. Mothers lift tiny babes in their arms, 
that looking upon the noble dead, a blessing may 



THE KING'S TOKEN. 421 

descend from the children's friend. The weak 
and suffering draw nearer each moment, that 
from the wonderful power that emanates each 
moment from the King^s Tohen, upon the brow 
of the sleeper, rest and soundness of body may 
come forth to them. Israelites, and Christians 
of every denomination wind their patient way 
to the silent form lying within its casket as upon 
a bed of unutterable joy. Unbelievers and the 
unreclaimed press forward to see whence issues 
the strange magnetism of the humble dead. 
The municipal authorities of the little town, the 
pastors of other flocks within the community, 
men of the law, physicians, and teachers in every 
profession, are among the silent, weeping multi- 
tude that surges about the coffin of the peasant- 
priest. 

During the thirty years that the missionary 
labored among them, the subtle magic of the 
King's ToJcen, the golden seal of immeasurable 
love wherewith the life of the Yallys' son was 
sealed, was so gently, so unobtrusively potent, 
that those within the circle of his teaching were 
but dimly conscious of its power upon their 
spirits. 



422 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

JSTow that the " Man of the People " lies dead, 
the people recognize their own, and in its pass- 
ing, the strong, uplifting influence that has been 
vouchsafed them, is, for the first time, adequately 
measured. 

And as he sleeps, the son of Lavaudieu, with 
the golden chalice pressed to his silent heart, the 
holy vessel seems, — to the stirred souls of the 
multitude, — to brim once more with the Blood 
of the Lamb, the potent, saving blood, of which 
the dead priest has so long been the custodian in 
their midst. When the sacred vessel has been 
reverently removed, and the coffin-lid slides 
gently between the mild, still face of Louis 
Yally and the eyes of his people, a great sob 
arises from the soul of the multitude, but is 
soothed and glorified by the exquisite melody, 
*■' Within Thy Sacred Heart," that steals, like a 
ministering angel, out above the anguished con- 
gregation. 

In the organ loft, the orphan's fingers wake 
the keys once more, and the orphan's heart 
makes each note a Via Crucis / but love nerves 
her voice, and it rings out in duet with another 
voice that sang the " Silver Jubilee," in the 



THE KING'S TOKEN. 423 

hymn, " Within Th}^ Sacred Heart," set to the 
beautiful music of Charles Hennings of Mobile. 
It was the best loved hymn of the deceased, and 
is sung now in fulfilment of his own request. 

"Within Thy Sacred Heart, dear Lord, 
My anxious thoughts would rest ; 
I neither ask for life nor death, — 
Thou knovf est what is best. 

* ' Say only Thou hast pardoned me, 
Say only I am Thine ; 
In all things else dispose of me, 
Thy holy will is mine." 

Tenderly, Louis Tally's brethren of the priest- 
hood lift the casket from the bier and bear it in 
mournful procession to the entrance of the 
church. Now, the Catholic Knights receive the 
precious burden ; and the superb lament of the 
Miserere is entoned by the clergy. And still, as 
the funeral cortege moves on, the exquisite 
strains of "Within Thy Sacred Heart," fall 
pearl-like upon the solemn background of the 
magnificent dirge, heard now faintly, now dis- 
tinctly, as the procession goes on its serpentine 
route to the churchyard. 

Out into the gray morning, for the sky is yet 
overcast with clouds, — out upon the sodden 



424 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

earth, and in the soft, penetrating rain, the 
sorrowful cortege winds slowly around the 
square. The Miserere swells and falls, gathers 
and dies, and is borne again, as though the woe 
of all ages has found voice, the vast sorrow of 
humanity been compressed into its awful har- 
mony ; as though the Spirit of Life had lain 
her down, powerless, conquered, by the Spirit of 
Death. 

In a few moments, crushed beneath the sad- 
ness of heart and of sky and of psaltery, the 
mute multitude that follows the coflBn feels the 
heavy gloom shutting out their spirits from the 
light. Entering the churchyard, the pungent 
odor of the newly turned sod, comes with sicken- 
ing suggestion to the mourners. The fence has 
been removed that the people may find no ob- 
struction, and ranging themselves into a close 
circle about the grave, they gaze tearfully into 
the yawning earth. 

The Bishop of ITatchez begins the solemn 
service ; with thurible and Asperges the hal- 
lowed corpse is made more holy. Now the 
signal is given the pall-bearers to perform their 
office. For a moment they stand back, w^hile a 



THE KING'S TOKEN. 425 

perceptible recoil runs through the vast as- 
semblage. Can they lay it there? — that clay 
so dear — the familiar form of the well beloved ? 

Dead ? — Aye, dead ; but not less dear. Can 
they leave the body of him in the mold beneath 
the lowering heavens ? 

''Ashes to ashes ; dust to dust f " Aye, but 
not such dust as this. We would not lay it in 
the dark. 

But as though the King of Life made answer : 
— " Light ! " kindled somewhere in the heavens, 
a glorious sunbeam cuts the gloom and falls 
straight upon the coffin and the open grave. 

" Kot in the night of the sod, but in the day of 
immortality ; not in death, but life ; you leave 
him, oh! deluded sons of sorrow," speaks the 
voice of Eternal Truth. 

And the souls of the people hear it. And be- 
fore the all-compelling Word the shadows melt 
away, and Life and Light have conquered ! 

Not a human spirit in the great multitude but 
feels the thrill of heaven, and vibrates, for one 
supreme moment, to the power of the Word. 

A joyous mocking-bird, enraptured with the 
unfolding day, intones a sudden song in the tree 



426 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

just overhead. The crystal notes fall one by 
one upon the coffin, like a chorister's "J.^ 
leluia^ 

High and clear and sweet they ring out; grow- 
ing each moment, higher, clearer, sweeter, — a 
rainbow of melody mingling with the great sun- 
beam, until song and sun-ray seem woven into a 
mantle of glory that lies upon the homely casket 
of the dead. 

A second signal of the Bishop to the pall-bear- 
ers, — a brief stir at the brink of the grave, while 
the mocking-bird sings with increasing ecstasy, — 
and earth has claimed her own. 

Where the steward dwelt in life, he lies in 
death, — close to the feet of the King the body of 
him rests ; his spirit has passed on to wider and 
sublimer fields of action. 

Silently as it gathered, the multitude departs ; 
now only one heart-crushed group remains, linger- 
ing to heap the generous gift of flowers upon the 
new-made mound, — flowers of all hues, of every 
sweetness, flowers brought by high and lowly, by 
old men and by babes. The duty over, they, too, 
leave the churchyard. 

Silent, solitary, tearless, absorbed, Kev. Henry 



THE KING'S TOKEN. 427 

Picherit stands beside the grave ; for always^ in 
the universe of God is death the slave^ and not 
the conqueror of love I 



PART IV 

" The path of the just is as the shining light which shineth 
more and more unto the perfect day." 



^ jg. ■. '■■^I,. , -I,',,,;" i^i, - i^B 


1 





Tomb of Rev. Louis Vally, Erected in 1900. 



CHAPTEK XXY 

HE BEING DEAD, YET SPEAKETH 

Five times the great tree in the Meridian 
churchyard has clothed itself in the pale green 
robe of spring, the emerald garb of summer, and 
the royal, many-colored mantle of autumn, since 
the dead heart of Louis Yally was laid in the lit- 
tle garden of the King's demesne. 

Here, by the violet-covered mound, the silver 
voice of the altar bell can be plainly heard, as it 
daily announces the Eoyal Presence. Here, the 
mated mocking-bird still sings the requiem of the 
son of Lavaudieu, and here the hands of his peo- 
ple bring the most precious flowers the bounteous 
seasons yield. From January to December, the 
love offerings are laid upon the cherished mound, 
— blossoms, when blossoms make glad the world, 
and immortal evergreen when all the flowers 
sleep in God. 

A monument of purest marble gleams to-day 
beneath the old tree's shade, — erected on Novem- 
431 



432 FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

ber 22, 1900, the second anniversary of his death, 
and dedicated by Rev. Father Bekkers. It is the 
tribute of the shepherd's little flock, of those of 
many an alien fold, and the sign and symbol of 
his life. Above the beautiful headstone, a mar- 
ble cross shines like a day-star, that toil-worn 
men in passing may look thereon and hope. In 
the heart of the little city they have lain the 
" People's Friend," and daily, the tides of life go 
ebbing and flowing beside him. 

And the virgin marble bears this legend, placed 
thereon by Eev. Bartholomew Bekkers : — 

" He l>eing dead, yet speaTcethy 

The date of his birth, February 20, 1841, and 
the date of his death, J^ovember 27, 1898, are 
there, as mortals reckon time, striving to measure 
the immeasurable, to put a girdle around the In- 
finite ; for the earth-life is the vestibule of the 
Eternal, and " He heing dead^ yet sjpeaketh!''' 

Aye, he speaketh ! Scarcely one heart in his 
community but beats a nobler measure, has 
greater meed of love, caught from the largess of 
the love-light of the dead. Scarcely one spirit 
within the city where he labored, will not bound 



HE BEING DEAD, YET SPEAKETH. 433 

more gladly, more strongly toward the Light, 
because of the touch, received in years departed, 
of the soul-strength of the Yallys' son. And 
though church and convent, presbytery and 
school stand as separate and enduring monuments 
to magnify his name, the real life-work of the 
peasant-priest was wrought in human souls, and 
will live on in ever widening circles of transmuted 
influence. 

When the passing stranger, looking upon the 
marble and the legend will ask his own spirit 
wh}^ a life so hidden should have been a life of 
such exceeding power, let him remember the ob- 
scure years of the Great Arch-Type of men, and 
know that at I^azareth, not Jerusalem, was gen- 
erated the tremendous spiritual potency that burst 
into flame on Tabor, and bloomed in the love- 
death on Calvary. 

What human affection can do to show that love 
for the beloved, the citizens of Meridian have 
done for Louis Yally ; but one sweet sign is un- 
fulfilled. 

When the steward heard the King's summons, 
and made ready to enter into the Koyal Pres- 
ence, he spoke these words to one standing near : 



434: FOR THE HONOR OF THE KING. 

— " I would ask that when I have departed, my 
people will place a little tablet near the altar of 
the Yirgin Queen, and carve thereon the words : 
— * Pray for the soul of Louis Yally.' " 

Such was the last and dearest wish of the son 
of Lavaudieu, whose soul knew no aim but the 
will of his Liege, and whose heart knew no love 
save the love of his people. 

Selah. 



DEC 6 1804 



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